Persistence Pays Off
by x-Twitch-x
Summary: Bella's already having a bad day, and getting a call from a telemarketer only makes it worse. But there's something different about the mysterious stranger selling life insurance. AU/AH, alternating perspectives. Always BPOV then EPOV
1. A Day For Ranting

As I slammed my front door shut and lobbed my now-broken keys onto the coffee table (they missed), I mentally heaved a huge sigh. Home at last.

My day had been sufficiently heinous, and I wanted nothing better than to call either Alice or Rosalie and rant at them. While in a bubble bath. Drinking wine.

Sigh. Maybe I could salvage the day after all.

Then I realised that my keys had not only missed the table, but skittered across the floor and under the fridge. Screw the bath, I needed to rant now.

I grabbed the cordless and pressed the speed dial as I got on my hands and knees.

"Hello?" I heard Alice trill on the other line.

"I have a bone to pick with you, midget," I growled as I peered into the darkness under the fridge. There were a lot of shadowy blobs under there that may or may not have been the keys, if you ignored that fact that some of them were moving.

"Hello to you too, Bella." God, I could practically see her smirk from here.

"Don't give me that crap, Alice, you flaked out on lunch today!" I scolded, whilst trying to get a better view of the blobs.

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic, you'll pop an artery. Rose was there, wasn't she?"

I let out a humourless laugh, and started feeling around blindly in order to concentrate on my upcoming tirade. "No, Rose wasn't there because she, like you, had something planned with her boyfriend. Apparently 'sisters before misters' doesn't carry the same impact as 'bros before hoes' to you guys or something because I had to settle with ramen noodles at my desk, while my asshole of a boss decided to load me up with _another_ errand that had me working till nine-freaking-o'clock at night. In case you forgot Alice, I usually finish at five. And the douche doesn't even pay overtime! On top of that, remember those designer heels you so graciously forced upon me? Yeah, they broke, leaving me hobbling all the way home since my rusty pile of crap decided to break down. It's raining by the way, so I look like a drowned rat. Oh, and my keys broke, so trusty old Mr. Locksmith will have to stop by and fix up my fail. And now, I just picked up a cockroach instead of my keys!" I squealed, before shaking off the dirty vermin and scrambling out of the kitchen. I don't do cockroaches.

A stunned silence met me on the other line. After a minute or so, Alice cleared her throat. "You couldn't tell them apart?"

"Ha freaking ha, Alice," I retorted sarcastically. I succeeded in finding the bug spray and fumigating the little disease creature, before turning my attention back on the phone. "You don't even want to get me started on the first half of the day."

She hesitated. "You're right, I don't."

I proceeded to let her know anyway. Abandoning my search for the keys (they were harder to find than the g-spot, for god's sake), I instead paced up and done in the hallway, throwing my arms around expressively as I spoke.

"My phone ran out of battery, so the goddamn alarm didn't go off, which then made me miss breakfast in my hurry to get to work, which I was late for any way! Caius was being a royal ass to me, asking me to do stupid things that no secretary _ever_ should have to do. But I did them! You know why, Alice? Do you?"

"Umm... no?" she replied timidly. I think I was scaring her. Oh well, _she_ wasn't the one recovering from post-cockroach stress.

"Because I'm. A. Pushover! My boss asks me to do the most ridiculous errands, and I go ahead and do them. Hell, I'd probably lick his feet if he threatened me enough!"

"I'm... sorry you're having a bad day?" she said hesitantly, as though I'd explode if she said the wrong thing. That probably wasn't too far off the truth.

"Bad doesn't even _begin_ to describe it," I hissed, back in the kitchen and raiding the pantry for some sort of edible substance.

Alice brightened. "I know a way to make you feel better! You can come over to my house this weekend and I can take you shopping and give you a makeover! You'll feel like a whole new person!"

I groaned into the mouthpiece as I pulled some mince out of the fridge. "Are you trying to make this day worse? I would've sworn it wasn't possible until you just said that."

Thankfully, she took the hint. "Alright, it was just a suggestion. Change of plans. You and Rose come to my house for alcohol and movies this Friday. No guys allowed."

I mulled it over. "What kind of movies?"

"Please, Bella, like you really need to ask."

She had a point there. We were almost ritualistic in the movies we chose: Chick flicks. Every single time. Not only were guys not allowed, when they found out our movie choices, they weren't interested.

"Well..." I conceded, and Alice recognised her victory.

"Yay! We'll have so much fun, and you can tell me and Rose all about your bad day. But listen, I have to go, Jasper's on his way over, and I still need to change into my nurse cost—"

"Oh god, Alice, unless you want to give me nightmares, then please, for the love of god, stop talking now," I groaned, smashing at the mince in the pan with more force than necessary.

Alice giggled, but thankfully didn't finish her sentence. "I'll see you later, Bella. Do me a favour, try and keep your PMS in check this Friday, kay?"

"Why, you little—" I spluttered into the phone, but she'd already hung up. So I settled for scowling at my dinner.

Actually, I did more than scowl. I pounded the meat mercilessly, belting out all my frustrations. Then I realised I wasn't getting rid of my frustrations, just suppressing them. Well, hey, that's good enough for me. Sucks to be the poor sod who I take my anger out on, though.

As I worked the meat sauce through and stirred the pasta, I recognised that I probably wouldn't take my anger out on anyone, what with me being a giant pushover and all. Knowing me, I'd probably keep on taking all the crap everyone dished out to me, hiding my opinion, until BAM! Peptic ulcer from stress. Or maybe I really would pop an artery.

Well, that's going to change, I vowed to myself. From now on, Bella Swan doesn't take crap from anyone. I'm going to stand up for myself, and let people know if something's bothering me!

I grinned as I set my plate on the table, considerably calmer now since my phone call and resulting epiphany.

And just as I was about to enjoy my spaghetti, the phone's shrill tone pierced my ears.

Well, that's just fantastic. Seems like I was a bitch to Lady Luck cause she's really been shitting all over my day.

I huffed and stalked to the phone. I tried to calm down by telling myself that maybe Alice was concerned and got Rose to call me. Or maybe it was a call saying I'd won the lottery (even though I never entered). Or maybe, just maybe, it was a call from work saying my boss had croaked.

I snorted. I couldn't be that hopeful.

When I was finally calm enough not to sound angry at my potential good-news bearer, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak to a Miss Isabella Swan?"

I was prepared for good news, but I wasn't prepared for an angel himself to deliver it. OK, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. The guy on the other line is probably not, I repeat, _not_, an angel. But he sure as hell sounds like one. His voice was rich and deep, and it sounded like satin.

I took a deep breath. "Speaking."

The angel (maybe he was a god?) sighed heavily, then launched into a speech that sounded surprisingly...scripted.

No. Freaking. Way.

Karma, you bitch, what did I ever do to you? You give me possibly the worst day of my life then sprinkle it with a telemarketer?

I tried taking deep breaths and counting to ten to avoid having another outburst.

My stomach gave a loud grumble, reminding me of my dinner, and that I had to end the call now.

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested," I said in my most civil tone.

"Not yet you aren't, but wait until I tell you about the new money-saving..." he continued back onto the script.

Ugh. I tried to sound nice to make him understand (I didn't want to have to yell at an angel, after all).

"Listen, you kind of interrupted my dinner..." I trailed off, hoping he'd take the hint. No cigar.

"Awesome. Lemme chalk up another one on my little scoreboard here. If I interrupt two more dinners before break, Ben owes me ten bucks."

And that right there, that's what did it for me. My recent realisation came roaring back, reminding me that I shouldn't be taking crap from this stranger. So, as it turned out, he was the poor sod that I was venting at.

"No. There's no way you're getting some stupid enjoyment out of pissing me the hell off. Today has been about the worst day of my life in history and I do _not_ need you and your stupid life insurance. I've been ridiculed, I'm exhausted, I was stood up by _both_ of my friends for lunch and ended up eating alone, at my office desk, while my boss loaded me with pointless errands that had me working FOUR hours longer than I was getting paid for. And on top of all that, I had to _walk_ home in the _rain_ in high heels, after one of them snapped off. Not to mention I can't lock my house for the next few days seeing as my key snapped off inside the lock. Meaning I'll probably get assaulted during my sleep, knowing my luck. Not like arrogant pricks like you would care.

"Really, all I want right now is to eat some god damn spaghetti, which is probably covered in cockroaches, thanks to you. So if you would mind fucking the hell off?"

Wow. That felt surprisingly good. I was still pissed, sure, but taking it out on a random stranger helped a lot more than I thought it would.

There was a pause on the other line, then... "please hold."

My scream of frustration fell on deaf ears. Who did this asshole think he was? I started pacing, determined to give him another piece of my mind. The tiny rational part of my brain spoke up and told me that doing this would make no difference at all, and I should probably just hang up now. But the much more dominant, enraged part of my brain told the rational part to just shut the fuck up.

A minute later he picked up again, and before I could express my anger, he was talking.

"Wow, it sounds like you've had a rough day," he said kindly. I stopped pacing and blinked at the phone. Huh?

"You don't know the half of it," I muttered back darkly.

"Heh. If that wasn't even half, I'd hate to hear the rest," he snickered. I bit back a growl.

"Are you _mocking_ me?" I hissed venomously. The logical part of my mind was screaming louder. _Hang up, Bella, just hang up now, before you screw this up anymore!_

"I may be a little bit...yes," he replied lightly.

"You _jackass,_" I seethed.

He chuckled. "The personality comes with the job."

I let out a huff of frustration. "You know what? Fuck you," I said firmly, before slamming the phone back in its cradle. I had to hang up now before my angry tears showed up and he thought I was some snivelling emotional wreck.

Which I kind of was right now, but I sure as hell didn't want to give _him_ the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

I pushed him out of my mind and stomped back to my dinner. It was cold.

Ugh. Could my day seriously get any worse? I really doubted it.

*****

_God, I'm so bored,_ I thought, as I hung up the phone with a sigh. Calling number after number to repeatedly get hung up on, abused and mocked was not a job I had dreamed of as a little boy.

But it paid the bills in between jobs, and I realised that I'd hardened to the rejection over the weeks. In fact, now I started having a little fun with the 'crazies', as Ben liked to call them.

Because we both had the night shift, we decided to have a little wager. The first person to interrupt five dinners had to fork over ten dollars. At the moment, we were tying on two dinners each.

Usually the people I called would either hang up or tell me politely to fuck off. I was thankful that I got a wage as well as commission, because even being the best seller here, I didn't make a large amount of sales.

Occasionally I would get a person that would abuse me, but tonight had been pretty uneventful. Which brings me back to my chronic boredom.

I dialled the next number and swivelled around in my chair as I waited for an answer. In the booth next to me, Ben was reciting his script with tired eyes.

He paused suddenly, then smirked. I cocked an eyebrow at him, before hanging up my own phone. We didn't do answering machines.

Ben struggled with composure as he told the person to hold, clicked the button, then turned to me in a burst of laughter. "This lady is saying the creepiest stuff," he guffawed. "You gotta hear this!"

I pulled my chair closer to his booth as he placed the caller on loud speaker. "Thank you for holding, Miss Stanley," he said politely.

"Oh, no problem. Is there anything else of yours you want me to hold?" the woman on the other end said in a sultry tone. I almost snorted.

"How about you hold the contract for our life insurance plan?" Ben grinned.

"Oh you'll need life insurance, by the time I'm done with you," she whispered.

I held my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. Ben's voice sounded strained as he continued with the script, trying not to chuckle at her innuendos. Eventually he couldn't help it, and cracked up laughing. Miss Stanley was so offended she hung up on him.

"Poor thing," I said to Ben, once I wasn't in hysterics any more. "She must be desperate if she's coming on to a telemarketer."

"I'll say," Ben agreed, dialling another number.

I checked the clock as I went down the list for my next number. Nine forty-five.

The phone went for several rings before it picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak to a Miss Isabella Swan?" I asked politely.

There was a pause, before she took a deep breath. "Speaking."

I almost didn't want to continue the call, she sounded too nice. Her voice was soft and sweet, yet firm and strong at the same time. I sighed deeply. I had to clear my mind. _Come on, Edward, it's not that hard to read off a piece of paper,_ I scolded myself.

I launched into my speech, all the while listening carefully for a hint of her response. Just as I was getting to the discount, she interrupted me.

"I'm sorry," she said, not really sounding that sorry at all, "I'm not interested."

Oh well, if that's the way she wanted to be. I shrugged.

"Not yet you aren't, but wait until I tell you about the new money-saving..." I continued from where I left off.

She cut me off again. "Listen, you kind of interrupted my dinner..." she said almost coldly.

"Awesome. Lemme chalk up another one on my little scoreboard here. If I interrupt two more dinners before break, Ben owes me ten bucks," I told her casually. What's a job like this without having any fun?

She was silent for a second. I expected shock, anger, a bit of a reprimanding, sure, but I didn't expect her be one of the crazies. She launched into a tirade.

"No. There's no way you're getting some stupid enjoyment out of pissing me the hell off. Today has been about the worst day of my life in history and I do _not_ need you and your stupid life insurance. I've been ridiculed, I'm exhausted, I was stood up by _both_ of my friends for lunch and ended up eating alone, at my office desk, while my boss loaded me with pointless errands that had me working FOUR hours longer than I was getting paid for. And on top of all that, I had to _walk_ home in the _rain_ in high heels, after one of them snapped off. Not to mention I can't lock my house for the next few days seeing as my key snapped off inside the lock. Meaning I'll probably get assaulted during my sleep, knowing my luck. Not like arrogant pricks like you would care.

"Really, all I want right now is to eat some god damn spaghetti, which is probably covered in cockroaches, thanks to you. So if you would mind fucking the hell off?"

I was kind of shocked. Normally when people ranted at me it was about telemarketers and how they were the spawn of Satan. I didn't usually get extremely attractive-sounding women yelling at me about their day. Ben had to hear this.

"Please hold," I told her, praying she wouldn't just hang up.

"Ben?" I popped my head around the booth. He'd just hung up.

"Yo."

"I have a crazy on the phone. Get this, she just told me, wait scratch that, she just _yelled_ at me about her bad her day was."

Ben laughed. "Well put her back on, before she hangs up. You gonna have some fun with her?"

I grinned wickedly. "You bet I am."

I picked up the phone, put her on loud speaker, and injected some sympathy into my tone. "Wow, it sounds like you've had a rough day."

"You don't know the half of it," she murmured back in a low voice. Wow, that's hot.

I laughed again. "Heh. If that wasn't even half, I'd hate to hear the rest."

I heard a strangled noise from her end, like she was suppressing a noise of frustration.

"Are you _mocking_ me?" she demanded. Well, duh.

I kept my voice light as I replied. "I may be a little...yes."

I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears as she fumed. "You _jackass."_

"The personality comes with the job," I laughed.

She released an angry huff. "You know what? Fuck you," she said in a stiff tone, then hung up.

Wow, what a bitch.

I turned to Ben with a triumphant smirk, and he slapped a high five. "You owned her, man," he chortled, before scooting back into his booth.

I agreed, then decided I'd call her again tomorrow, just to spite her. And every day after that until I made my sale.


	2. Confused is an Understatement

Now I know I said I'd update weekly, and therefore this chapter is a little late. Reason: I decided that it might be fun to get my friend to do a little illustration for every chapter if she didn't mind. Unfortunately, I didn't allow enough time for her to draw something, so I waited until I had a cartoon in my hot little hands (or hard drive) before submitting this chapter.

On the subject of my friend (whose drawing you'll find in the end notes), she's really talented, folks! She'll allow you to use her artwork so long as you credit her when you use it. You can check out her other drawings (she has a nice collection of Twilight illustrations) on her deviant art profile: gluey-MACERONI

The timeline of this story might start to get a little hard to follow sometimes, so every time a POV changes, there'll be a little excerpt from where we left off to remind you what's happening (unless it's not needed, of course)

If you have any questions, comments or suggestions don't hesitate to ask in a review, I'm happy to answer anything.

Now, on to the telemarketing!

**BPOV**

The next day was marginally better. I called Alice and Rose and threatened them with grievous bodily harm if they didn't turn up for lunch. Alice must have warned Rose about the phone call because they were both waiting at the cafe, scrutinizing my outfit critically.

Alice was outraged that I'd worn flats, but I had the perfect excuse. After all, she didn't expect me to walk around in broken heels, did she? (According to Alice, anything would look better than the 'tissue boxes adorning my feet')

I finally stood up to Caius, effectively ending my employment with him, but I found myself more relieved than anything else.

My favourite mechanic fixed my truck during my break, so I was no longer referring to it as 'my rusty pile of crap'. I got to drive home early (not looking like a drowned rat) and eat my dinner at an appropriate time.

The down side of the day was the manager of the building hadn't gotten around to fixing my keys yet. I didn't mind too much, my neighbours were friendly and it was hardly easy for a stranger to enter the building, let alone make it up to my place specifically.

As I soaked in the tub with a glass of wine, I took the moment to acknowledge that my night had been delightfully cockroach-free. Just the way I liked it.

I finished the wine, closed my eyes, and sunk even deeper among the bubbles. This was bliss.

_Rrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrring._

My eyes popped open and I sat up abruptly (inhaling foam in the process). Great. Nothing like the phone to interrupt my bliss.

I spluttered up the soap (it didn't taste as nice as it smelt), and gingerly stepped out of the bath. I'd have liked to go quicker, but my equilibrium just couldn't allow it.

I grabbed a towel from the rack and rushed to the phone (slipping several times in the process) to snatch it up.

"This better be important," I choked. "You interrupted my bath!"

"Is this Miss Isabella Swan?" an amused voice asked.

_That_ voice. No way.

"I—you—how," I spluttered, looking at the phone in outrage.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, still full of mirth.

"I already told you I wasn't interested," I said slowly, hoping to get the message across and trying for the life of me to not get hypnotised by the way he sounded.

"Oh, you mean I've called here before? I do apologise," he grinned. Well I couldn't actually see him, but I imagine he was grinning.

I scoffed. "Not to sound egotistical, but how could you forget me? I'm the one that went off at you?"

"I call a lot of people, Miss Swan. Don't be too disappointed if I forget who you ar—"

I cut him off. "So you're telling me you're so frustrating that every person you call has to yell at you? I don't stand out from the rest? Gee, why am I not surprised?" I said sarcastically.

"Hey, now, I'm just here to sell life insurance, no need to bite my head off," he told me calmly.

"Ugh, I already told you, you big dolt! I'm. Not. Interested. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a floor to stop dripping on and a bath to return to." I turned to hang up the phone.

"At least I didn't interrupt your dinner," I heard him snicker, halfway back to the cradle. I pushed the phone back against my ear.

"So you _do_ remember me!" I said triumphantly.

"It's hard to forget a voice like yours," he chuckled. I felt my face flush.

"I'm not going to comment on that," I replied tonelessly. The last thing I needed to hear was how screechy or annoying my voice was.

"Good. Instead, comment on the affordability of weekly payments to ensure..." he rattled on about life insurance.

"You've got to be joking," I groaned.

"It may seem that way, what with our low prices..." he continued where he left off.

A little voice in the back of my mind wondered why I hadn't hung up yet, but the rest of me answered with something along the lines of 'shut up, you're missing the sound of his voice!'

Figures my hormones would have something to do with this.

This had to end now. Maybe if I was polite he wouldn't call again.

"Listen, I'm sorry to interrupt," I said as sweetly as I could. "But I already have life insurance, so..." I trailed off, hoping he would catch the message and end the call.

No such luck. "But you've never experienced _our_ life insurance," he responded in a silky tone. I tried very hard not to melt. I remembered how relaxed I'd been before he interrupted and my rage returned tenfold.

"I don't care about your goddamn life insurance," I growled. "Leave me alone."

I slammed the phone down, ignoring his last mutter (which I could have sworn was something along the lines of 'I'll talk to you tomorrow'), and trudged back to my warm and sud-free bath. Due to the fact that it was no longer relaxing, I grudgingly pulled the plug and settled into bed.

My dream that night consisted of telephones chasing me, hypnotising me in some irresistible voice, while I tripped over tissue boxes. God I'm screwed up.

I awoke to my alarm blaring in my ear, then realised I didn't actually have a job to wake up for. Caius had told me my employment was to end immediately, meaning I had to be packed up and out by the end of the day. I'd gladly done that, and hadn't looked back as I walked out the door.

So now I had today (and endless days ahead of me) to do what I wanted until I found a job again. I'd have to get Alice and Rosalie's help with that, I mused.

With that thought in mind, I shut off my alarm and rolled over to get more sleep.

My dream this time was more shadowy and vague than that of last night. That mesmerizing voice was calling to me, though I couldn't quite make out the words. I was stumbling in the darkness, trying to get closer. A bright light illuminated the gloom, and I saw the voice was coming from the phone. Again. Then it started to ring.

_Rrrrrrrring._

_Rrrrrrrring._

My eyes snapped open as I realised that the sound wasn't coming from my subconscious, but instead from the kitchen outside my room.

I blinked blearily through the blinding light (the sun must have come out from behind the constant cloud cover) and got out of the bed as swiftly as my drowsy body would let me. I muttered under my breath as I kicked the doorframe with my uncoordinated foot, stumbling for the phone.

I hadn't told anyone about my lack of employment yet, so who could be calling now? I gasped when I realised who it might be, and yanked the phone off the hook angrily.

"Listen, you! You woke me up from my first sleep-in in four months and made me stub my toe, so you better not be a fucking telemarketer!" I snarled. It seemed that my usual tendencies of being a 'morning-person' were put aside today.

I heard someone—a female someone—clear their throat. "Geez, Bella, I didn't mean to interrupt your sex dream," Rosalie chuckled. "But since when are you so suddenly anti-telemarketer?"

I felt my face flush. "I—nothing, don't worry. Rose, why are you calling my home phone?"

"Oh, honey, I called your work and they said you were let go. I'm so sorry," she said sympathetically.

"Don't be, I couldn't be happier," I assured her brightly as I got out my favourite cereal.

"Oh. Well, Alice and I were going to take you out for a cheering-up brunch, but I guess we can make it a celebratory one."

"Sounds great."

"Which means you have to put away the cereal, Bella." Damn her and her ability to hear me pour food into a bowl.

I huffed, but followed her orders. She told me when and where to meet them, and as soon as we hung up I went to shower and pick out an outfit that wouldn't be crucified by Alice.

That, of course, took longer than I expected because nothing in my wardrobe (that I was comfortable wearing, anyway) was liked by Alice. I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a black sweater that showed just a hint of cleavage. I hoped that enough bare skin on my behalf would be enough to assuage the fashion monster.

As I swept up my hair into a high pony tail and slipped my feet into my flats (Alice be damned!), my cell's shrill tone rung through the apartment. I hurried through the door as I fished it out of the bag, not even glancing at the caller ID before I answered.

"Bella Swan speaking," I said politely as I pulled my door closed and rushed for the elevator. I was majorly late.

"I have a bone to pick with you, clumsy." Ahh. Alice.

"Ok, before you start, I know I'm late, and I'm on my way right now," I said hurriedly.

The elevator opened and I stepped in as Alice barked out her response.

"Where are you now?"

"I just got in the elevator," I admitted sheepishly.

"Bella!" Alice scolded. "You could have at least called to tell us you'd be late—"

"Alice, shh," I whispered, as the elevator stopped on a different floor to allow an average looking blonde man on. "For such a tiny person your voice has an amazing capacity for projection."

"Sorry. But honestly, why didn't you call?"

"Me and the phone aren't really friends right now, so I guess the idea slipped my mind. Speaking of which, remind me to tell you and Rose all about my new _boyfriend_," I said scathingly.

"Ooh really?" Alice squealed, all anger forgotten. "When did this happen?"

I rolled my eyes. She was so eager for me to hook up with someone that sometimes she chose to just ignore the sarcasm and take me literally.

"Oh, you know, the same day my shoes broke, my truck died and my apartment keys snapped," I hissed quietly as another person stepped on.

"Oh. Right. Have you gotten them fixed yet, by the way?"

I almost laughed out loud. But that would have scared the other passengers, so I settled on a quiet snort instead.

"As if. The rate that our manager works I'll be lucky if they fix it by next week."

"Well, stay safe until then. We all know how hard that is for you," she said cheekily. I had to give her that one.

"Yeah, yeah. Listen, I have to go. Leaving an elevator requires my full attention," I grinned.

Alice laughed. "Why am I not surprised? OK, Bella, we'll see you soon," she said, then hung up before I could respond.

I glanced at the time then rushed out the elevator, barely sparing a 'thanks' for the blonde man holding it open for me.

**EPOV**

As I settled in for my break I sipped my coffee. Loudly.

This was mainly to cover the noise of Mike's annoying voice coming from the booth next to me. That man couldn't just didn't know how to do the salesman thing. And I was stuck next to him for another five hours. I hated my morning shift.

Although, I reasoned, at least I get to have some more fun with Isabella Swan. Last night had been extremely entertaining. Not only had I interrupted her bath—my mind had gone crazy when she mentioned that—but I'd managed to make her angry again.

I snickered as I imagined what her reaction would be today. Would she yell again? Would she buy the life insurance just to get me to stop calling. I hope not.

I did a double-take at that thought. Why would I hope not?

_I _want_ her to buy the life insurance,_ I reminded myself. It was the reason I kept calling. Right?

I shook my head clear, then glanced at my watch. Time to get back into it.

And what a better way to start than to piss off Isabella?

I dialled through the number and waited eagerly for her to pick up, counting the rings absentmindedly. One, two, three...

Nine rings later, she still hadn't picked up. I hung up, then tried again.

Nothing. Might as well call some other people, and try Isabella in an hour or so.

The time dragged by, and I found myself checking the clock constantly. Why was I so eager to get yelled at? Was it because her feeble fury was endearing, and above all, comical? Or was it that I wanted to hear the soft melody of her voice again?

No. No, no, no. _She's amuses me, that's all,_ I assured myself.

I checked the clock, and was pleased to discover an hour and fifteen minutes had passed. I dialled the number (I barely had to glance at it anymore), and tapped my foot impatiently as I waited.

Nada. Not even an answering machine. I scoffed as I hung up. Who didn't have an answering machine these days?

I kept trying throughout the shift, and every time it just kept ringing.

Hmm. Perhaps she'd started screening her calls. I know I would if I were in her position. How positively frustrating I must be for her.

I sighed dejectedly as I hung up, determined to try again tomorrow. Then I realised with a sinking heart that tomorrow was my day off.

Well I basically had her number memorised anyway, I reasoned. Why not just call her from home? That way, if she really was screening her calls, she'd pick up because it wasn't my work number. _And that way,_ a devilish voice added,_ you can call her at any time during the night_.

I grinned devilishly as I strolled past Mike with barely a 'goodbye', heading straight for my Volvo.

*

The next morning found me at the gym with Jasper and Emmett.

"So, how's the job?" Emmett smirked as he bench pressed an ungodly amount. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how one person could be so strong.

"Oh, the usual. Dial, get abused, hang up. It doesn't change much," I responded dryly as I spotted him. Emmett laughed loudly. He always found my job amusing.

"Got any interesting ones lately?" Jasper grinned from Emmett's other side.

I told them several that stood out, including Ben's encounter with Miss Stanley. Emmett found that one particularly amusing.

"Dude," he boomed as he stood to allow Jasper to use the bench press. "You have the best job in the world! Sounds like a great way to meet the ladies," he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Though they thought I was oblivious, Emmett and Jasper had been trying to execute the 'Let's Get Edward Laid' plan for a while now.

I shrugged. "Not unless you're into being screamed at."

Emmett looked thoughtful. "In what context are we talking here? Cause I don't mind being screamed at in the bedroom. You know, Rosalie can scream—"

I cut him off. "Thanks for the visual, Emmett, but I'm talking about the pissed-off type of screaming."

His face fell. "Yeah, not into that so much. Who screamed at you, anyway?"

I laughed as I remembered her voice, growling in kittenish fury. It was quite possibly one of the hottest sounds I'd ever heard.

"Her name is Isabella Swan," I told them as I started my squats. "And man, you do not want to piss her off on a bad day."

"Go on..." Jasper smirked.

"So I called the other night, being perfectly polite and crap, and she cut me off saying I interrupted her dinner or something. So I told her 'hey cool, if I interrupt two more Ben owes me ten bucks'. And she went fucking nuts. Ranted about all the bad things that happened that day, like how her shoes broke and she walked home in the rain."

"So she screamed at you... about her day?" Emmett asked, confused.

"Yeah, and I think she might be touched in the head or something, cause she said I was an arrogant prick who wouldn't care if she was assaulted in her sleep, and then blamed me for all the cockroaches covering her dinner," I laughed.

"Oh man, you got yourself a crazy," Emmett guffawed.

"So what did you say then?" Jasper demanded.

"I mocked her a bit, which she called me out on. Then she told me 'fuck you' and hung up," I shrugged.

"Priceless," Emmett grinned. "Imagine how pissed she'd be if you called again."

"I don't have to imagine," I sniggered.

"You didn't," Jasper said, shocked.

"I sure as fuck _did_," I replied triumphantly. "Shit, she was furious. I interrupted her bath this time."

Emmett stopped working out as he tried to comprehend. "So... so you were talking to a wet, naked and pissed off woman? Fuuuuuck... angry sex is the best, you know."

"Did she sound hot?" Jasper asked eagerly.

"Sexiest sounding voice I've ever heard," I said simply.

Emmett gaped and Jasper looked thoughtful. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"Well now you have to try and fuck her."

I scoffed. "Jazz, I'm not gonna turn up at her house and ask to screw her. She hates me; she'd probably try and claw my eyes out or some crazy shit."

Jasper sighed. "I suppose you're right. A man can dream though, can't he?"

I grinned. "Dream on, dickhead."

*

That night I forced myself to stay awake in order to interrupt Isabella's sleep. Mainly I passed the time by drinking coffee and watching infomercials. I figured that around one o'clock-ish would get the best reaction out of her. I'm talking steam coming out of the ears here.

At around midnight I brewed another pot and settled in to witness the amazing steam cleaner, for only four easy payments of $20.99 (plus postage and handling).

It was halfway through this program that I suddenly got the most incredibly strong urge to call Isabella now. It was completely random and unjustified, and I wrestled with indecision for several minutes.

Why couldn't I wait until 1:00?

_Maybe you're just so desperate to hear her voice,_ a snide little thought crept through my head.

Hmm. Maybe I should cut down on the coffee. The caffeine was clearly screwing with my mind.

I strolled to the sink to dump the remains of my drink, then automatically reached for the phone and dialled her number.

My brain finally caught up with my actions, and just as I was going to slam down the receiver the ringing stopped.

I suddenly didn't care about calling too early. She answered, and that's all I really wanted.

"Hello?" she asked. Her voice threw me off completely. Instead of groggy and annoyed as I'd eagerly anticipated, she sounded alert, she was breathing more heavily than usual, and her quiet whisper held some hidden edge that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I was instantly tense, all my muscles freezing in place. "Is—" I croaked, then broke off to clear my throat. Not talking for hours had made my voice husky. "Is Isabella Swan there?"

Suddenly I was almost regretting my decision to call her at this time.

I heard a sudden intake of breath from her end, and prepared myself for the tirade.

"Hi, honey," she cooed, and I allowed myself a brief 'what the fuck' moment. Before I could reply, she was talking again.

"How come you're calling so late?" She was still talking in a gentle, loving voice, as though I was a puppy that was calling at this hour, not the aggravating telemarketer that she frequently cursed at.

"I... is this Isabella Swan?" I asked, confused. Maybe I hadn't quite memorised her number, maybe I'd come across a woman whose boyfriend I sounded uncannily similar to.

"Of course," she said, then _giggled_. She fucking giggled. I should have been turned on right now, but all I could feel was the tenseness growing stronger through my muscles. Maybe it had to do with the fact that her giggle, though extremely hot, sounded almost nervous.

"I'm confused," I admitted after several seconds. It sounded more polite to me than 'bitch, what the _fuck_ is going on?'

I didn't have time to consider why I was concerned about being polite (I was the one calling a stranger's house at midnight, after all), when she was spoke once more in that light, flirty tone.

"You want me to come over? Now?" she sounded vaguely confused.

But not half as confused as I felt. I was still frozen, holding an empty mug, and looking at the phone in bewilderment. "What? No! What are you talking about, how do you even know where I liv—"

She interrupted me. "Well, I suppose I could. But why so late?" Her words were coming out slightly too fast, like she was anxious. Anxious to see me...?

"I- no, wait- don't..." I spluttered. What the hell was going on with her? I'd always assumed the weird stuff she said was just a result of her anger, but maybe she really was crazy.

"Oh, well in that case..." her voice dropped as she trailed off, and it was dripping seduction. Something still seemed off. Apart from the fact that nothing she was saying was making any sense.

"Isabella, what the hell are you talking about?" I demanded flat out.

"I could be there in fifteen minutes, maybe less," she replied thoughtfully.

"What?! No, I don't want you to come over. I just wanted to sell life insurance for god's sake!" I almost wailed. Maybe that would make it clear to her, just in case she hadn't realised I was the telemarketer.

"Of course I'll be safe, sweetie, I know how worried you get when I'm late," she said gently, like her voice was caressing my ears. I actually was worried about her safety at the moment. Should she really be allowed in public?

"You... I... crazy..." I muttered weakly.

"I know. I love you, too," she replied. I felt like banging my head against the wall. Which I would have done had I not been frozen in... What? Fear? Confusion?

I decided to stop talking. Maybe she'd tire out the crazy and totter off to lick some cats or something.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'll be over in fifteen minutes. If I'm any later I give you direct permission to call the cops." Her voice had taken on a teasing tone. I sincerely hoped she didn't know where I lived, or I really would be calling the cops.

"I'm... I'm gonna hang up now..." I said slowly.

"OK. Bye, see you soon," she sang lightly, but her voice still had that weird edge that gave me chills. She didn't wait for me to respond before hanging up.

It took several minutes for my body to defrost, but when it finally did I ran around the apartment, locking all the doors and windows. I grabbed my baseball bat and sat in front of the front door, wide awake now.

My mind was a swirl of images and thoughts, but the one that stood out the most was quite simply 'what the fuck just happened?'

So there you have it! I'm kind of really interested in hearing your theories about Bella's behaviour (and don't worry, you'll find out next chapter)

Just a quick little story, you might get a kick out of it. When I was showing my friend this chapter, I asked if the gym talk was masculine enough. She told me that maybe it's just because she's reading it from a female perspective, but when Jasper said "you didn't!" she got a funny impression that he was thinking 'scandalous!' So I considered adding in the following sentence: "You didn't," Jasper said in a shocked but very manly voice that in no way implied he was thinking 'scandalous' or anything else remotely feminine. Boobs.

I decided against it in the end.

And here's the picture which was so kindly provided by gluey_MACERONI:

for a larger version, follow this link: .


	3. Didn't See That One Coming

I just want to start off with a HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed that last chapter. Seriously, you guys are fantastic! I loved all the speculation, and some of you were scarily accurate. Some of you gave me some really great ideas for if I ever feel like writing an outtake for this story.

So, I'm posting the chapter a few days earlier for a couple of reasons. First of all, I wanted to reward you all for your fantastic reviews with a nice 6000+ word chapter. Second of all, it's my birthday tomorrow, so I wanted to get posting this done today so I can relax tomorrow.

Things in this chapter get a little more serious, but don't worry, it lightens up by the end. And you get to see why Bella was acting nutters on the phone!

************BPOV************

"_Yeah, yeah. Listen, I have to go. Leaving an elevator requires my full attention," I grinned._

_Alice laughed. "Why am I not surprised? OK, Bella, we'll see you soon," she said, then hung up before I could respond._

_I glanced at the time then rushed out the elevator, barely sparing a 'thanks' for the blonde man holding it open for me._

As I strode into the little cafe, I was hyper aware of Alice and Rosalie's eyes following me.

"Cleavage," Rose grinned as I sat down. "I approve."

Alice narrowed her eyes at me. "Really, Bella, must you wear those abominations?" she spared a glance at my feet.

"In my defence, these shoes are comfortable. And I don't own any heels as of the other day," I replied as I opened the menu. I resisted the urge to poke my tongue at her.

"OK, I'm over it. And don't bother with the menu, we ordered for you. Now, tell us about your boyfriend," Alice grinned, leaning forward eagerly.

I rolled my eyes. "Trust you to take my sarcasm seriously," I sighed.

"Ha. Told you she was joking, Alice," Rose said smugly, yet she too looked on in interest.

"It's nothing, really. Just this stupid telemarketer who keeps calling," I said lightly.

"Oh, like he's trying to ask you out?" Alice giggled.

I snorted. "More like he's trying to drive me crazy."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "He's _that_ sexy?"

"No, he's that annoying! He's only called twice, but each time I've felt the strongest urge to hit something."

"Yeah, I'll bet you want to hit that," Rose muttered under her breath.

"Ha ha, Rose, but I'm serious. You remember how pissed I was the other day, Alice?"

She grinned. "I vaguely remember that, yes."

"So I kind of got angry at his persistence to sell life insurance, and had a similar rant to the one you got to hear—"

"Poor thing," Alice interjected, shaking her head in mock sorrow.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, instead of hanging up and leaving me the hell alone like a normal person, he goes and _mocks me_," I said indignantly.

"He sounds like a jackass," Rose said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, that's what I told him. Then I told him to fuck off and I hung up. The end, right? Uhh, no. Not for Mr. Persistence."

Alice and Rose laughed. "And then...?"

"And then the bastard called again last night! I had another go at him, and as I was hanging up, he said 'I'll talk to you tomorrow.' Ugh. I might have to invest in some caller ID," I sighed.

"Sounds like he wants to screw you," Rosalie replied.

I had to laugh at that. "No way, José. The only reason he keeps calling is 'cause he knows how furious he makes me."

"Well give us something to work from here. Does he sound young? Nice voice?"

"Yes and oh god yes. He has possibly the hottest voice I've ever heard."

"Told you you wanted to do him," Rose grinned. I rolled my eyes.

"Just because I think he has a nice sounding voice doesn't mean I want him in my pants," I grimaced.

"Whatever you say," Alice said quietly as our food arrived.

"Changing the subject completely," I said between bites of salad. "I need you two to help me find a job."

"I had a feeling you'd ask us that," Alice beamed. Of course she did. "When do we start?"

"If I want to stay in my apartment, then the sooner the better. We probably should have started last week."

"Can't change that now. I brought some newspapers with me just in case you'd ask," Alice replied, pulling a large stack from her purse. I wondered how it had fit there in the first place.

"How did you know to..." I started, then cut myself off. It was best not to question Alice's intuitions.

*

Several hours later I left, clutching the newspaper that now held a few circled ads that seemed interesting. I promised myself I'd check them out tomorrow.

But for now, all I wanted to do was get into bed and rest. I strode through my building entrance and made a beeline for the elevator.

Before I reached it, the same man that I'd travelled with this morning stepped in front of me and pressed the up arrow. I stood beside him in an awkward silence as we waited for the door to open.

"Floor?" he asked as we stepped in, his hand hovering over the buttons and his face stretched into a wide smile.

"Eight, thanks," I muttered, standing in the far corner. His grin creeped me out.

As I looked around awkwardly, trying to avoid staring at the dark blonde (or was it light brown?) next to me, he held out his hand.

"Hi, James," he said in a suave manner, his eyes meeting mine briefly, then flickering down to my chest. Damn me and my poor clothing choices. The one time I decide to show a little skin and I get some creeptard ogling my breasts.

I took his hand reluctantly. "Bella," I said politely, letting go as soon as possible without seeming rude.

"Beautiful," he breathed. I got chills down my neck. And not the good kind, either.

"I'm sorry?" I squeaked.

"Bella means beautiful in Italian. No one ever told you?" he leered at me.

I cleared my throat. Was that a compliment or was he just passing on information? "Y-yes, I've been made aware," I said quietly.

There were several seconds of silence, before we stopped at the fifth floor. The door opened, but no one was there. I hoped this was James' floor.

"Oops, must have leant on the button," he smirked. I gave a weak chuckle in response.

The doors closed once more, and James stepped closer. I involuntarily leaned back.

"You know I could always talk the manager, he's a friend of mine," he blurted out abruptly. Huh?

"Uh... pardon?" I asked, trying to keep my face blank. He could clearly sense my confusion though.

"About getting the lock fixed on your door. I could get him up there tonight. What room are you in?"

So he'd been eavesdropping on my phone conversation this morning. Man, this dude should teach classes on creepiness. He was a pro.

I had to think quickly to try and stem any advances he may have been planning. "Um, that's, er, kind of you... but my _boyfriend_ promised me he'd fix it. Thanks anyway," I replied, trying to smile sweetly without it appearing as a grimace.

"Anytime, Bella. I'll see you soon," he simpered as I stepped off the elevator and practically ran for my door.

Some men just don't know how to flirt without freaking people out, I thought, still very aware of the chills down my neck as I slammed my door shut.

*

I was surprised when I woke up the next morning. The telemarketer hadn't called all yesterday. I allowed myself to hope that he'd given up on annoying me, moved on to piss off a different unsuspecting woman.

My day was busy. Alice and Rose accompanied me to all the prospective places of employment I'd selected, and I had two interviews lined up for next week. It cheered me that I might not end up as a bum on the street, like I'd initially feared.

My night was relaxing, just as I'd hoped. I enjoyed a full bubble bath, ate my dinner while it was hot, and settled on the couch to watch a movie before I went to bed. As the opening credits rolled across the screen I found it odd that _he_ had seemingly forgotten about me over the past two days, especially seeing how he'd promised to talk to me again.

As I mulled over my thoughts, I was extremely surprised to find that a part of me (however small it was) was disappointed. I was confused. Him not calling anymore was a good thing, I reminded myself. I forced my brain to remember how disruptive and arrogant he'd acted.

_But that voice_, the little part of me argued. Oh. So it was my libido that was disappointed. It was lust that made me a little sad that he'd forgotten me.

I shoved that part of my brain into a drawer and locked it tight, remembering that I didn't want to be pestered to buy life insurance every day of my life.

Satisfied that I had my thoughts under control, I settled back to watch the movie. I didn't care, for once, that I was staying up late. I could sleep in however late I wanted tomorrow.

My body clock had other ideas, and soon I found myself slowly drifting off into a blissful half sleep, as the movie continued to play for my tired eyes.

When I jolted awake I saw that the movie had been finished for a while now. I peered around the now dark lounge room, looking for what had woken me so suddenly. For some inexplicable reason, my stomach was in knots.

I peered at the digital clock on the microwave. It was just past midnight.

And that's when I heard them. Voices coming from the hall outside my apartment. I glanced at the door, where a tiny sliver of light was streaming into the room in the tiny gap between my floor and the wood. The light was flickering; there were shadows moving across it.

"I'm not sure about this, man." The man who spoke sounded slightly foreign; his accent hinted at time spent in a different country. France, maybe?

The next voice made me freeze. "Just shut up, Laurent, you might wake her. That door unlocked?"

James. What the fuck was he doing here at midnight, asking about locked doors?

My tired mind finally caught up with the situation, and I had to stifle a shocked gasp. He wasn't here for _me_, was he?

I stood up abruptly, my eyes flying around the room. If I could find something, anything, to defend myself, I might be in with a chance. Outside, the man named Laurent replied.

"Nah, I'll keep trying."

"Good," James hissed. "If you find her room first, I'll let you have left-overs." He chuckled darkly.

My skin erupted in chills again, ten times more intense than yesterday. I didn't even want to contemplate what he meant by left-overs.

Finding nothing to help me here, I stumbled shakily around the corner, into the kitchen. I leant against the counter and proceeded to sink down to the cold linoleum, my legs no longer supporting my weight. What was James planning?

I crawled slowly across the floor, then peeked around the corner, back into the blackness of the lounge room. I didn't dare turn on my light now; instead I focused on the flickering light under my door. The shadows were getting stronger.

I heard Laurent firing questions. "Shit man, I dunno. What if she fights back? What if she screams? What if she turns us in?"

"We'll knock her unconscious if we have to. She won't be able to fight us," James murmured confidently.

My stomach clenched painfully as I realised their voices were getting louder. They were right. If they were talking about me, how could I fight two grown men off? James alone would be able to take me.

_OK, Bella, calm down,_ the calm rational part of me kicked in to action. _You don't even know they're looking for you._

"What's her name again?" Laurent asked hesitantly.

"Bella," James replied, his voice rolling over my name sickeningly. OK, so I did know they were looking for me.

_It's gonna be fine. Just breathe. Call the cops._ I smacked my palm to the forehead. Of course I should call the police, why hadn't I thought of that earlier? Oh right, because I'm an idiot.

I forced my shaky legs into action, standing right as I heard my front door rattle. My stomach lurched, causing me to clutch the counter for support.

"This is it," I heard Laurent whisper, and I had to bite my lip from breathing too heavily. My door creaked lightly, and more light spilled into the room. I was sure they'd be able to hear my pounding heart.

I forced my legs into action, lurching from the counter and padding as silently as I could into my bedroom. I snatched up my cell, then realised the noise of the buttons would surely alert them to my very conscious presence.

They were feeling their way through the lounge room now, I could hear them. Nausea overtook my body, churning in my stomach and clawing up my throat.

"Lounge room's empty," I heard James whisper. "Check the bathroom."

As I waited for them to find me, I tried to remember the self defence lessons my mother had dragged me to. _Palm their nose, knee their groin, hook their eyes,_ I chanted to myself.

I stood still, chest heaving with stress, waiting for them to find me. My cell was clutched tightly in my hand. Could I risk it?

Suddenly, miraculously, the phone shrieked from the kitchen and throughout the apartment. I felt a thin flicker of hope bubble up in me before I could quash it. I didn't stop to think who could be calling at this hour, I just thanked my lucky stars they were calling.

If I could somehow find a way to work this to my advantage without letting James know I knew he was here...

I gulped, hoping to add some moisture to my throat so I could properly converse. I stumbled into the kitchen, and flicked on the light. That's what I would have done if I'd been alone, right?

I swallowed again, trying to compose my jumbled thoughts, before I picked up the phone and pressed it lightly against my ear.

"Hello?" I could feel my nerves coming through in my voice, and I tried to control my frantic breathing. I waited eagerly to hear who my saviour was.

"Is-is Isabella Swan there?" I heard a rich voice croak in a husky voice. My jaw almost dropped and I couldn't stop myself drawing in a quiet gasp. Mr. Persistence? Calling at midnight? Never ever, in my life, had I been so thankful that assholes existed.

The hope returned, stronger this time, because if I thought quickly and really focused on my (admittedly weak) acting skills, I might be able to pull this off. If James thought it was my 'boyfriend' calling, he couldn't exactly snatch the phone and force me to hang up, could he?

I remembered my previous words, about the telemarketer not caring if I was assaulted in the middle of the night. _Oh god, please let him care,_ I thought desperately, before launching into my charade.

"Hi, honey," I crooned, focussing all my energy on sounding lovey-dovey instead of shitting-my-pants terrified. "How come you're calling so late?"

There was a pause; silence from what I was sure was a very confused telemarketer. After all, the most passionate thing I'd ever said to him before now was 'fuck you'.

"I... is this Isabella Swan?" he replied, his voice radiating confusion.

"Of course," I replied, and before I could stop myself, a nervous giggle burst through my lips. Must be some strange reaction to stress, I realised. As if palpitations and sweating wasn't enough.

Several seconds passed. "I'm confused," he said. _Well get ready to be a whole lot more confused, buddy, 'cause I'm not done yet,_ I thought with a newfound determination.

"You want me to come over?" I fought to keep my voice light, then let some bewilderment seep through. "Now?"

"What? No! What are you talking about, how do you even know where I liv—" he sounded panicked. I couldn't let his voice get too loud, or James might get suspicious.

I interrupted him, anxious to quieten him down. "Well, I suppose I could. But why so late?"

"I- no, wait- don't..." he choked out. I would have felt sorry for him, but all my emotions were used up being terrified for myself. The nausea wasn't helping, either.

I contemplated why a boyfriend would want me over so late. There was no logical answer other than sex, so I decided to go with it.

I dropped my voice, trying to sound sultry. "Oh, well in that case..."

He responded a second after I trailed off. "Isabella, what the hell are you talking about?" he deadpanned.

"I could be there in fifteen minutes, maybe less," I replied, trying to sound thoughtful. I could still hear the nerves fill my voice.

"What?! No, I don't want you to come over. I just wanted to sell life insurance for god's sake!" he yelled, with a hint of desperation. I heard a slight clatter come from the lounge room, and my panic multiplied. Had James heard? Was he on to me?

I fought down the urge to scream. It might just give me away. Instead, I focused on making my voice as sweet and tender as I could.

"Of course I'll be safe, sweetie, I know how worried you get when I'm late." Let James make what he could of _that_.

"You... I... crazy..." he mumbled feebly. Well crazy was better than him hanging up.

"I know. I love you too," I replied firmly, trying (probably futilely) to make it sound real.

He didn't reply to that. He was probably dialling the mental institution on his cell. Hell, I'd rather be in the loony bin than right here at this moment.

I waited the appropriate amount of time that it would take someone to talk, meanwhile straining my ears to hear what was happening in the lounge room. There were hushed whispers; it sounded like an argument.

"Yes. I'll be over in fifteen minutes," I said firmly, then decided that teasing-but-serious might get the message across to my intruders. "If I'm any later I give you direct permission to call the cops."

The hushed whispers grew slightly louder, and I heard some quiet ruffling. Of clothing? I couldn't be sure.

"I'm... I'm gonna hang up now..." Mr. Persistence said after several seconds of silence. I heard the slight knock of wood against wood, and the light coming from the lounge dimmed.

"OK. Bye, see you soon," I trilled, on the verge of just flat-out screaming. Frankly, I was terrified of ending the call. What if they'd closed the front door? If they knew I'd been faking? If they were waiting to ambush me?

I hung up the phone, knowing I had to keep playing out my act. Taking a deep breath, I walked as quickly as I dared into the bedroom, slipped my coat over my clothes (thanking some higher deity that I'd forgotten to change into PJs before watching the movie) and all but raced for my front door. I didn't dare turn on the lights, or even look to the side for that matter. My heart was pounding as I wrenched open my front door with too much enthusiasm. I kept waiting for the moment where my jacket would snag on some fingers, where I'd be yanked back into the apartment, where a sweaty hand would cover my screams.

But that moment didn't happen. I made it successfully out of the dark apartment, pulling the door shut behind me and stepping gratefully into the brightness of the hallway. I was still nauseous, terrified, hyperventilating, and on the verge of screaming, but at least I could see where I was going now.

I reached the elevator and pounded frantically on the button, my eyes darting incessantly to the display that showed what floor it was on now. Every few seconds I'd glance over my shoulder, my stomach knotting painfully each time in morbid anticipation. Every time I expected to see James, leering at me from my front door.

I heard the ding of the elevator, and turned gratefully around to step inside. What I saw made me jump and squeal in shock.

"James!" I uttered, rooted to the spot.

He grinned, and everything about him seemed infinitely more sinister. "Bella." He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Aren't you going to join me?"

I gulped, forcing the bile back down my throat. "Is it going down?" I asked weakly.

"What level?" he replied, an eager look forming in his eyes. He had his arm across the door to prevent it closing.

"You know what? I'll just wait for the next one," I squeaked. I was so close to losing it.

"No, I insist," he said. "Ground?"

I didn't trust my voice, so I merely nodded and stepped in beside him. Straight away I noticed that the ground floor wasn't highlighted at all. The only floor highlighted was the penthouse. The elevator started rising. My throat constricted.

I leaned forward and quickly pressed ground. "My apologies," he murmured, watching me closely. "It mustn't have registered when I pressed it."

"Mhmm," I mumbled, looking away.

"You look scared, Bella," he observed. I fought back a shudder at the way he said my name.

"Do I? I'm just surprised, that's all. I don't often ride the elevator at midnight and I didn't expect to see you here."

"Indeed," he whispered, staring directly into my eyes. I averted my gaze, stopping at the cell phone in my clenched hand. A sudden inspiration struck me.

I cleared my throat. "If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make," I muttered, stepping even further away and pressing the first number on the speed dial.

"Of course," he said, looking like he was suppressing anger.

Alice finally picked up as we reached the penthouse. "He-hello?" she said groggily. Relief flooded me instantaneously.

"Hey babe, I forgot to tell you I'm out of cash. Is it ok if you wait downstairs for me? For the cab, you know?" I gave a quick wave to James as he reluctantly stepped off the elevator.

Alice was instantly awake. Whether from the tone in my voice or that fact that I'd called her babe and asked for taxi money, she knew something was wrong.

"Bella," she whispered urgently. "What's up?"

I felt the tears that had been threatening to fall since I heard an intruder finally erupt. "Alice," I squeaked, and I felt a sob rip from my throat.

"Bella!" Alice was frantic. "Bella, please, what's wrong?"

It took me a while to respond through the hysteria that had enveloped me.

"I'm coming to your place, right now," I blubbered, then hung up the phone, burst from the elevator, and fled my building.

*

I arrived at Alice's house, still bawling, to find her on the sidewalk stressed out and waiting for me. Even that woman's dressing gown was designer.

She dragged me upstairs, bundled me up on her couch, passed me a hot chocolate, then held me as I calmed down.

I was going to explain everything to her but between the hot chocolate and Alice's soothing hugs I must have fallen asleep.

I was suddenly back in my apartment, but this time I was laying down, with James hovering over me. He was whispering in my ear, stroking my face, stroking my leg, unbuttoning my top. I writhed under his grasp but he slapped me across the face, hissing for me to stop screaming. I hadn't even realised, but I'd been yelling at the top of my lungs. "Bella," he yelled, but something wasn't right. Instead of menacing and vicious, his voice was suddenly concerned. His rough slaps become softer.

I woke up still screaming, with Alice tapping my cheek gently. She was calling my name soothingly.

A dream. It was just a dream. Or I suppose nightmare would be a more apt description.

As I gathered my bearings my yells died down, and I was able to blink groggily around the apartment. It was light now, but I had no idea what time it was.

I wiped my hand over my eyes, and was surprised to find them wet with unshed tears. Oh, scratch that. My cheeks were damp too.

"Bella," Alice gasped, looking at me worriedly. I knew how awful I probably looked. Puffy red eyes, messy hair, blotchy face. I was trembling for some reason.

I blinked up at her, unsure of what to say.

"Just relax, Rose is on her way over. Bella... what happened last night?"

I avoided the question. I didn't want to have to explain it again when Rose got here. "What's the time?"

"Just past noon. You slept for a while," she said quietly, then... "Who's James?"

I grimaced. "What did I say?"

She frowned. "You said 'get off me' a few times, and you told 'James' to stop touching you... then you started screaming. I had to wake you up before the neighbours started calling the cops."

"Sorry," I muttered.

Rosalie burst in without even knocking. "How is she?" she demanded of Alice, casting worried eyes over me.

I rolled my eyes. I'd calmed down considerably now. "I'm fine, Rose."

"You don't _look_ fine," she observed, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"

I launched into my story, not looking up until I'd finished.

Alice and Rosalie were both staring at me with their mouths open.

"Be careful, you might swallow a fly," I told them, almost giggling at their expressions.

Rosalie snapped her jaw shut. "That. Fucking. _Asshole,"_ she growled. She whipped out her cell.

"What are you doing?" I asked hurriedly.

"Calling the police. We need to get this creep locked up pronto." She was positively seething.

I sighed. "As much as I agree with you, there's not much we can do. We have no proof."

She stopped dialling. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

"Bella, you're not going back," Alice told me firmly. "Not unless me, Rose, Jasper and Emmett stay with you 'til we've dealt with _James."_ She said his name like he was one of those people who frequently breached the 'no socks and sandals' rule. She was ruthless when it came to those types.

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "That or you're staying with me," Alice told me sternly. "Your choice."

************EPOV************

_It took several minutes for my body to defrost, but when it finally did I ran around the apartment, locking all the doors and windows. I grabbed my baseball bat and sat in front of the front door, wide awake now._

_My mind was a swirl of images and thoughts, but the one that stood out the most was quite simply 'what the fuck just happened?'_

"What. The. Fuck."

My eyes snapped open to find Emmett and Jasper standing over me in front of the open doorway. Jasper looked bewildered, Emmett amused. I looked around quickly.

I was sprawled in the front hallway, baseball bat lying several inches from my right hand. I was unsure why I decided to crash on the floor with a weapon; then last night came flooding back.

I looked back up. "You're probably wondering why I was sleeping in front of the door holding a baseball bat..."

"Kinda curious, yeah," Jasper replied, eyebrows raised.

I chuckled weakly. "Funny story..."

"We've got time," Emmett grinned, stepping over me to retrieve some beers from the fridge. Jasper pulled me up and we all settled on the couch.

"You remember that Isabella girl? The one I was calling just to piss off?"

Emmett laughed. "Should have guessed the crazy had something to do with this."

I shook my head slowly. "Man, you have no idea."

"What'd she do?"

I told them everything she said, and my consequent reaction. They thought it was hilarious.

I decided to try and change the subject. "How come you came over?"

Jasper laughed. "I live here too, remember?"

I suppose I vaguely recalled seeing Jasper around here. "Ever since you started dating Alice, you've only spent a total of two nights here," I pointed out. Jasper just shrugged.

Emmett leaned back and rested his feet on the coffee table. "Rose kicked me out so she could go see her friend. She's all hysterical or something."

"Sucks to be her."

"Yeah. Hey, so you coming to the gym?" He stood up and lobbed the beer bottle into the recycling bin.

"Right behind you," I replied. Then the phone rang.

"One second," I called to Emmett, who was already out the door. Jasper halted next to me.

"Hello?"

"H-hello?" a tired voice squeaked.

My heart stopped. A feeling of true terror overtook me. How the hell did Isabella Swan get my number? Did this mean that she did have my address after all?

Jasper must have sensed my panic, 'cause his normally calm facade turned worried as he saw my reaction. "What's wrong?" he mouthed.

I smothered the speaker with my palm. "It's crazy phone lady!" I whispered back, shocked to find my voice was higher than usual.

"What? Gimme the phone," Jasper replied, yanking it out of my hand.

"Hello?" he said smoothly. His puzzled expression cleared up instantly.

"It's just Alice," he whispered. Huh?

"You sure?"

He nodded, then shooed me away. He spoke in hushed whispers, concern etched on his features.

After five minutes he hung up, looking troubled. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn't want to pry, so I let it drop and followed him out the door (where Emmett was yelling "Hurry the fuck up!")

*

That night I was back at work, thankfully working with Ben. I wondered whether I really wanted to keep calling Isabella. For all I knew, she was some crazed stalker who was coming to kill me in my sleep. She had my number, after all, so it was only natural to assume she had my address as well.

Then I shook my head clear. _That was Alice on the phone, remember?_ I told myself sternly. Isabella didn't have my number, or address, she just had a bad case of being creepy.

So I decided to continue calling her, for several reasons. I wanted to see if I could find out exactly what was going through her mind as she spoke her nonsense; I wanted to make sure she hadn't gone on some psychotic rampage and killed herself or something; I wanted to pinpoint exactly what it was about her that intrigued me so much; and, quite simply, I wanted to hear her voice again.

I decided to wait until Ben was on his break, as the conversation was likely to deviate away from life insurance. Ben might become concerned if I started asking a customer why she was so freaking insane.

"Going on my break, man, you coming?" he asked, scooting out of his chair and grabbing some cash.

I made up some excuse why I couldn't go, and he disappeared around the corner.

My heart was pounding as I shakily dialled Isabella's number. I twiddled the cord between my fingers as I waited for her to answer.

"Hello?" she asked cheerily. I breathed a sigh of relief; the strange, slightly chilling edge to her voice was completely gone now. I instantly relaxed as she spoke, as though her voice was a soothing tranquiliser.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I asked lightly.

"Oh," she said abruptly, though not with distaste or an evil laugh, as I had expected. "It's you."

I chuckled lightly, pleased to hear that she seemed to be making sense. And that she recognised me. "Indeed. And I was wondering if you were interested in purchasing our quality life insu—"

She interrupted me. "Can the salesman thing. I know I probably freaked the hell out of you yesterday."

So she was aware that her words came out like gibberish considering the context? Had she been playing a trick on me? Well, touché, Isabella.

"I suppose you could say I was slightly confused..." I replied uncertainly.

"I want to thank you," she blurted out breathlessly. "I mean, as much as I enjoy getting molested by strangers in my apartment at midnight, I must say you saved my ass last night." God damnit. And she'd been acting so normal, as well. I was almost convinced she was sane.

All I managed in response was a bewildered "huh?"

"Ugh, I'm doing this all wrong," she groaned. I remained silent.

"You see, when you called last night — trying to interrupt my sleep I assume?" she asked dryly.

I stuttered out a half formed response, but she cut me off. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, when you called last night I was already awake cause I'd heard noises outside my door, and there were two men searching for my unit, 'cause remember how I told you my lock was broken? Yeah, one of them overheard me telling my friend. So just when they found my place you called. And I had to pretend that you were my boyfriend and you wanted me at your place as soon as possible so I could leave and they couldn't... you know..."

She trailed off awkwardly. Whether she was embarrassed about her little babble or the subject matter of said babble, I didn't know. I sat there in stunned silence, still trying to comprehend everything she just said.

"So... so when I called... you were almost about to be... ra- molested?" I stuttered out, appalled. I couldn't bring myself to say _rape._ It just sounded so... horrifying.

"Um, yeah," she whispered, clearly aware of my slip of the tongue. I sat there, still shocked. Everything made sense now, the weird edge, the things she said, the alertness. My mind conjured an image of a faceless woman, frail and alone in a dark apartment, as two burly men confronted her.

The rage hit with more force than I was expecting. I felt a monster roar to life within me, condemning the men who would dare hurt such innocence. I could barely tolerate the thought of her gentle (when she wasn't pissed at me) voice, crying out in fear, horror, _pain._

I wanted to go to wherever she was now and sweep her up, not let anyone else touch her. I didn't even stop to question why my reaction was so strong. I figured anyone would be this protective.

I felt a strange noise build up in my throat; it almost felt like a growl. "Where are you now? Are you safe? Did you get out OK?" I demanded fiercely.

Several of my co-workers looked in my direction, and I forced myself to calm down. _Deep, soothing breaths, Edward,_ I told myself.

Isabella was clearly as shocked by my outburst as I was. "Yeah, I'm fine, nothing happened. I'm with a friend now."

"But you're still at home," I accused. How else could she have answered my call?

"Yes," she replied, "but my friends are staying with me."

"Are you sure they can keep you safe?" I persisted. Why did I care so much? She was just a person I called to annoy.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked. She was clearly starting to get irritated. "We both know you only call here to piss me off." Her words stung me, despite the fact that they were true.

"That might have been true in the beginning, but..." I stopped talking. But what? I didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"Yes?" she asked sceptically; her breathing was coming a little faster.

I paused. "I might be a telemarketer, but I'm not a monster," I said quietly.

She sighed. "I never said you were, you know."

"My point is, just because I don't know you doesn't mean I can't be concerned for your safety. Regardless of the fact that all I ever do is piss you off," my voice took on a teasing tone.

She laughed. I let the sound wash over my ears, burning it into my memory. "You haven't been so bad this time. You definitely weren't bad last time," she pointed out.

"I guess I'll have to try harder," I said, to more laughter from her end.

"Does that mean you'll be calling again tomorrow?" she asked, with an emotion coming through in her voice that I couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Have you bought any life insurance?"

"No."

"Well then I'll be calling," I said smugly. I sensed the call was coming to an end, and her next words confirmed it.

"Thanks again," she said softly, warmth seeping through in her voice. "I still think you're an asshole, though."

It was my turn to laugh. "I think I can deal with that."

There was silence. "Um... so, bye," she said awkwardly.

"Talk to you later," I replied, then the call disconnected.

I sat still for a few minutes, mulling over the conversation. It was the first time she'd said goodbye before hanging up.

A silly grin was plastered on my face for the rest of my shift.

*

I got up early for gym the next morning, ready to work out my frustrations on the weights. I stopped by a juice bar to grab a drink, and decided to take a shortcut through the department store. Walking through, I examined the people around me.

The actions and reactions of humans in general always fascinated me. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was getting quite experienced at it. I could usually tell the main gist of what a person was thinking through examining their tone of voice, their body language, the things they said.

For example, the man standing by the perfume section holding a woman's purse was, in a word, whipped. Yet the way he stood, and the way he talked to his partner told me that he didn't mind it at all.

The woman a few rows over was clearly looking for a fragrance to seduce someone. You could tell not only by the scents that she was lingering on, but the way she looked slightly awkward as she looked, like she was about to be caught for doing something naughty. It wouldn't surprise me if she were somebody's mistress.

As I walked I made several more observations, some I was unsure of, others that I instinctively knew were true. I was walking past the shoe section now.

The woman trying on heels by herself wasn't comfortable in those types of shoes, which was clear in her self-conscious posture, the way she let her shiny mahogany hair fall in a curtain over her face as she slipped the shoes over her feet. She stood up, wobbled a bit, but saved herself from falling by clutching a nearby rack. I gasped, and halted my examination.

She was stunning. Her pale heart-shaped face was open and expressive; at the moment it seemed to say something along the lines of 'I'd rather be anywhere but here'. Her chocolate eyes were darting around the store every few seconds, like she was looking for something, but what really struck me was the depth. Most brown eyes I encountered seemed flat in their darkness.

Her gaze locked with mine for a brief moment, and I saw her mouth drop open. What an odd reaction.

She snapped her jaw shut again soon afterwards, and inviting warm red stained her cheeks. She looked away and dropped her eyes, clearly embarrassed.

I'd never been attracted to someone so much as I was to her right now. Although Isabella Swan would be a close second.

I shook my head clear, trying to force her out of my mind so I could direct myself to the gym. And while I was wrapped up in my head I bumped in to somebody, in the clothing department this time.

"Oh, I'm sorr— oh! Alice!" I said, stunned.

"Hi Edward," she grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"Shortcut for the gym," I admitted. "You?"

"My friend has a job interview that I'm helping her shop for," she explained, holding up some business outfits. "Speaking of which, she'll be waiting for me. Tell Jasper I love him!"

"Jeez, Alice, how bout I just say 'hi' from you?"

"I suppose that'll do," she grinned, then walked off towards her friend.

I walked the rest of the way to the gym with my mind full of the angel in the shoe department.

********************

Oooh, so a few questions for you there... who answered the phone? Who did Edward see in the shoe department (as if you didn't already know ;] )? Why is Edward so protective? What's going to happen with James?!

Again, I'm interested to see your comments, suggestions, questions etc.

I'd love it if you could drop a review, even just a few words, letting me know what you think. If you don't, I'll be sad on my birthday (yes, I'm willing to resort to guilt).


	4. Faux Flirting Fun

Thanks to everyone for both your reviews and birthdays wishes! Just BPOV this time, but I might update earlier in the week with EPOV

************BPOV************

"_Bella, you're not going back," Alice told me firmly. "Not unless me, Rose, Jasper and Emmett stay with you 'til we've dealt with James." She said his name like he was one of those people who frequently breached the 'no socks and sandals' rule. She was ruthless when it came to those types._

_I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "That or you're staying with me," Alice told me sternly. "Your choice."_

After careful consideration, I realised that without a lock on my apartment, anyone could break in. I didn't want my valuables stolen, so I agreed to let Alice and Jasper stay with me for a while.

"Good," Alice said firmly as she finished drying the dishes. "Now I just need to call Jasper. Since he's not here like he usually is I assume he's at home. Can you dial for me? I just have to do these two plates."

I grabbed the phone and dialled the number that Alice instructed, twirling the phone cord through my fingers as it rung.

"Hello?" came a rich voice that sounded so familiar and suddenly so _safe_ that my heart skipped a beat.

Maybe I was in shock without realising it. Or maybe my body thought it would be fun to take up hallucinations. Whatever it was, I could have sworn it was Mr. Persistence on the other line.

"H-hello?" I stammered. Oh shit. My voice squeaked.

Alice looked over at me with a puzzled expression as she hung up the tea towel. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head in bewilderment. "I swear Mr. Persistence just answered the phone."

"What? Bella you need more sleep. Here, pass me the phone."

I handed over the phone without even arguing. Maybe I did need more sleep.

Five minutes later Alice hung up with a smug look on her face. "It's all arranged. Jasper and I are staying with you until things work out. He'll be over at your place later this afternoon."

I smiled. "You don't have to do this, you know. I could... I dunno, stay in a hotel for a few days or something." I shrugged.

"Nonsense, Bella. You do realise this gives me a chance to go through your wardrobe, right?" Alice looked positively thrilled at the idea. She'd even started doing that little bounce on the balls of her feet that she did when she got really excited.

I sighed loudly. "You're going to take me shopping soon, aren't you?"

And with no further encouragement, Alice launched into her plans for my attire. I didn't like the way she mentioned 'Prada' and 'Gucci' so many times.

*

That night while Jasper was working and Alice was in the tub, I settled down on the couch to read. I was halfway through Pride and Prejudice when the phone interrupted my stern concentration. I jumped, dropped my book, and somehow managed to fall off the couch.

I shook my head at my pitiful display and proceeded for the phone. My heart had started to beat faster, and I didn't even understand why. Maybe I was nervous about voices when I couldn't see who they belonged to. It wasn't the first time it struck me that I had absolutely no idea what Laurent looked like, despite being able to match him first time if there was ever a voice line-up.

In the back of my head I realised that maybe it was Mr. Persistence; maybe I'd get a chance to thank him or convince him that it was possible for me to live safely with the rest of society (after last phone call, I'm sure he had his doubts). That cheered me slightly as I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I sang happily, holding my breath in anticipation.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" came a light-hearted voice. My heart skipped a beat, and I was momentarily dazzled by the sound of his voice.

"Oh," I said stupidly. "It's you."

Way to go Bella, impress him with your superb verbal skills. I stopped that train of thought in its tracks and reminded myself that I didn't _have_ to impress him, nor did I want to.

He chuckled softly, and the sound sent shivers down my spine. But not the James-type shivers, the good kind. Then I realised he was probably laughing at what I just said and scowled at the phone.

"Indeed. And I was wondering if you were interested in purchasing our quality life insu—" was he still going with that charade? Was he actually going to pretend yesterday didn't happen?

I interrupted his script. "Can the salesman thing. I know I probably freaked the hell out of you yesterday."

"I suppose you could say I was slightly confused..." he said apprehensively.

Well, I had to tell him the truth. I was lucky he didn't call the asylum on me. But first things first.

"I want to thank you," I said in a rush. I wasn't used to expressing too much emotion in words. He was silent on the other end, so I continued. "I mean, as much as I enjoy getting molested by strangers in my apartment at midnight, I must say you saved my ass last night."

There was a long pause. "Huh?"

"Ugh, I'm doing this all wrong," I groaned, leaning back against the counter. He didn't speak, probably because I just confused him even more.

"You see, when you called last night — trying to interrupt my sleep I assume?" I asked, already knowing it was true. What other reason would he have?

"I- uh, well, I didn't think, um," he stuttered. Poor man couldn't think of an answer for that.

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, when you called last night I was already awake cause I'd heard noises outside my door, and there were two men searching for my unit, 'cause remember how I told you my lock was broken? Yeah, one of them overheard me telling my friend. So just when they found my place you called. And I had to pretend that you were my boyfriend and you wanted me at your place as soon as possible so I could leave and they couldn't... you know..."

I trailed off and hung my head in my hands. I just told a complete stranger that I was five metres away from being taken advantage of; in a rant, no less.

I would not be surprised if he just hung up the phone now and never called back.

When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice, and he stammered a lot. "So... so when I called... you were almost about to be... ra- molested?"

I knew what he was going to say, but I'm glad he didn't. I didn't want to face the reality of that night yet.

"Um, yeah," I whispered, my voice too hoarse for me to get any louder.

He was silent for a long time. I was almost about to ask him if he was alright when I heard a weird noise. If someone asked me to describe it, I would have said it was almost a growl. I stood still, waiting.

"Where are you now?" he burst out, causing me to jump. "Are you safe? Did you get out OK?"

His voice was rough and loud, and I honestly found myself a little turned on. _Focus, Bella, now is soo not the time for your hormones to interfere,_ I scolded myself.

I had to calm my pounding heart before I could reply, and I copied the deep breaths I heard from the other end.

"Yeah, I'm fine, nothing happened," I assured him, sounding shocked. "I'm with a friend now."

"But you're still at home," he retorted, sounding accusing. My previous arousal was swept away by anger at his tone. Was he implying that I'd put myself in such danger again? How stupid did he think I was?

"Yes," I replied, struggling to keep my voice even. "But my friends are staying with me."

'Are you sure they can keep you safe?" he said, voice peppered with scepticism. Who did he think he was, to question my friends like that?!

"Why do you care so much?" I snapped. "We both know you only call here to piss me off."

He had no right to tell me how to stay safe.

When he spoke again his voice had softened, and I fought not to melt right where I was. _You're angry at him, remember?_

"That might have been true in the beginning but..." he trailed off. But what? What the hell was that supposed to mean? My heartbeat sped up at his words, and I found to my surprise that my breathing was heavier. _Still mad, still mad, still mad,_ I tried desperately to remind myself so that I wouldn't take his words the wrong way.

"I might be a telemarketer, but I'm not a monster," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. And right there, that's when I melted. How did he know all the right lines to say?

I sighed in defeat, letting my anger ebb away. "I never said you were, you know."

"My point is, just because I don't know you doesn't mean I can't be concerned for your safety," he said gently. I honestly felt my knees weaken. Then his voice turned teasing. "Regardless of the fact that all I ever do is piss you off."

I laughed loudly, and relished the feeling. Well, I had to set him straight, at least. "You haven't been so bad this time. You definitely weren't bad last time," I replied.

"I guess I'll have to try harder," he replied, making me laugh again. No, he definitely hadn't been too bad this phone call.

I felt a bubble of hope, and quickly squashed it down. I had to force myself to remember why I shouldn't like this guy. He was a telemarketer. He found it enjoyable to piss me off. He interrupted my dinner, my bath, and would have interrupted my sleep, had he not saved my life.

"Does that mean you'll be calling again tomorrow?" I asked, and realised I hadn't exactly squished all my hope 'cause it was coming through in my voice. God, I hope he didn't notice that.

"Have you bought any life insurance?" he asked cheekily.

"No."

"Well," he said smugly, "then I'll be calling."

I heard Alice getting out of the bath, and had to hang up soon, lest she interrogate me about telephones and mysterious velvet voices.

"Thanks again," I said quietly, really meaning it. He had to understand that I was truly grateful, but without getting a big head. "I still think you're an asshole, though."

He laughed this time, and I felt myself drowning in the noise. I tried to ingrain it in my memory.

"I think I can deal with that," he said, the laughter still in his voice.

I didn't know what to say now. Every other time one of our calls ended I always hung up on him. "Um...," I started awkwardly. "So, bye."

"I'll talk to you later," he assured me. Satisfied with that, I hung up. I drifted dreamily back to the couch and picked up my book just as Alice came out of the bathroom in her robe.

"Did you say something earlier?" she asked me on the way to the guest room.

"Just the phone," I replied lightly. She nodded, then disappeared behind the door.

I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

*

Waking up the next morning was an unpleasant experience. I didn't want to relive the memory any more than I had to, but suffice it to say it involved Alice, water, and soaking wet clothes. From now on I'm hinging my bedroom door shut.

Once I finished telling Alice off (she wisely kept an apologetic look on her face throughout), she got a sparkle in her eye and promised to make up for it by replacing my pajamas.

Translation: Alice would be spending several torture filled hours dragging me through various department stores and forcing me into clothes that I couldn't afford. From my previous experiences with Alice, I knew that refusal was not an option.

I figured I'd go along with it anyway because I _did_ owe her from the other night. And I still needed some clothes for my interviews.

So that's how I found myself sitting in the shoe department, trying on pairs of Alice-approved stilettos while she took on the clothing section for some suitable business attire. Nothing that I'd tried on yet was Bella-approved.

I sighed and grabbed the next box, scoffing when I saw the label was Dolce and Gabbana. No way would this be in my price range, especially now that I was unemployed.

I let my hair fall around my face as I struggled to put them on; it was easier than making eye contact with the people who would inevitably laugh when I fell.

I tentatively rose off the soft leather, and I almost tripped immediately. These shoes were death traps for the uncoordinated.

Thankfully I was able to prevent my ass meeting the floor by holding myself up on a nearby rack (almost taking out the entire exhibit in the process).

I quickly scanned the room to see if anyone had seen my pitiful display, as well as looking for Alice. She'd been gone for a while now, and I was kind of worried she'd fallen into a cashmere induced coma or something.

Ugh. My surroundings just reminded me that I'd rather be anywhere than here. I went with department stores like chalk went with cheese: not at all.

And that's when I made contact with the most beautiful pairs of eyes I've ever seen. Emerald green and burning with mystery, on a face that was quite possibly the most handsome in the world. His features were strong and soft at the same time, and perfectly angled. It was all topped with hair that had that 'bed-head' appeal to it (Rosalie would have called it 'sex hair'), in so many different shades of bronze and copper that I couldn't quite determine exactly what colour it was supposed to be.

I took in the rest of his appearance in my peripheral vision. He was tall but not lanky; quite the opposite. He was wearing gym attire and from the look of his physique it would seem he frequented the place often. It was lust at first sight.

And then as my sinful thoughts caught up to me I realised I was still staring at him... and my jaw had literally dropped. I didn't know when it had happened but I made sure to jerk my mouth closed as swiftly as possible. Before I even managed to drop my eyes I felt my cheeks start to burn.

Fantastic. I'd just humiliated myself in front of the hottest guy in the world (I'm sure he saw me almost take out a display stand) and then he caught me staring at him like a kid looks at candy. I must have repulsed him (the imitation of a tomato didn't help either).

When I was brave enough to peek up again he was shaking his head slightly, and his walking seemed less focused. I sighed and managed to remove the shoes, trying to force him out of my mind.

The next box held a pair of shoes so absurd that I didn't even get the lid completely off before I decided against them.

Alice returned soon after, brandishing more waist-high skirts than I had fingers.

"What took you so long?" I grumbled, stepping out of some shoes and tossing them back in the box.

"Ran into a friend," she said dismissively. "But, Bella, look at all the clothes I got for you to try on!"

I sighed in resignation and allowed Alice to drag me into the dressing room for several hours of asking if my butt looked big.

*

I made it home that evening after having successfully spending most of this week's rent. God help me if I didn't get one of these jobs.

Alice immediately separated my clothes into outfits in my wardrobe while she waited for Jasper to get home. Meanwhile I sat in the lounge room, reading to try and preoccupy myself.

_He should be calling any minute now..._ a tiny voice in my brain spoke up. I sighed and repositioned my legs; reading wasn't as distracting as it used to be.

I didn't even know _why_ I was getting my hopes up. Wasn't I supposed to hate him? Well I suppose not after the James incident, but I should find him annoying at the very least. He was trying to take my money after all. So why wasn't he still aggravating me?

The answer came straight away.

Because he was a genuinely nice guy. He cared about me...or at least he gave the impression he did. For all I knew it was just an act to win me over and buy some life insurance.

I realised it would probably be easier if he was an ass. Then I wouldn't be so confused and conflicted.

I glanced at the clock, and found that it was nearing 11:00. Alice had long since retired to the guest room and Jasper had joined her some time while I was lost in my thoughts.

I gave a huff and slammed my book shut, before stomping off to my room. The huge surge of disappointment was clearly irrational, I told myself as I climbed into bed. So he didn't call (even though he said he would). That was a _good_ thing...right?

I fell asleep to my confused thoughts, and barely had time to dream before the ring of the phone startled me awake.

My groggy brain didn't even process much of what was happening. In fact the single thought going on in there was something along the lines of 'must stop loud noise'.

I picked up the phone as I blinked my blurry eyes.

"He-hel-hello?" I yawned, allowing most of my body weight to relax against the counter.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there please?" came an amused voice. It sounded vaguely familiar...

I didn't even stop to correct the use of my name. "Yeah, who's this?"

A soft chuckle crackled in my ear. My mind suddenly caught up with reality, most likely triggered by the noise I'd committed to memory yesterday.

"You!" I gasped before he could answer. "You interrupted my sleep, asshole," I said bluntly. I wasn't known for my tact at this level of sleepiness.

"Hello to you too," he replied happily.

I couldn't help it. I gave a growl of frustration and squeezed my eyes shut. "What do you want?" I said through gritted teeth.

"I-uh, I want... shit, you sound hot when you're mad," he muttered quietly. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear that or not, but it certainly woke me up effectively.

"Excuse me?" I said sharply, all mumbling gone now.

"I just needed a way to wake you up so you could properly converse," he replied cheekily. "Did you really think I was serious?"

I gaped at the phone for several seconds. "What the _fuck_ is your problem?" I managed to splutter out.

"My problem?" he said, and his voice went deliciously low. "My problem is the fact that I'm on the phone to a woman with an incredibly sexy voice. And all I want to do right now..."

He trailed off teasingly, and against my will my heart skipped a beat, my breathing quickened. I took deep, slow breath and forced away the butterflies in my stomach. I would _not_ show him how much he got to me.

Which was a lot, by the way. I was seriously turned on right now.

"Yes?" I asked him sceptically.

"All I want to do right now," his voice was a rough whisper, "is sell her life insurance."

I let out a derisive laugh to hide my feeling of stupidity. "Oh, you put on a good show, I'll give you that," I said scathingly.

"I like to think so," he replied smugly. I rolled my eyes. Two could play at that game.

Time to give him a dose of his own medicine.

"But is that all it is?" I asked, adopting the flirty tone that I'd used the other night. "It seems to me like you're all talk and no..." I trailed off teasingly, then said breathily, "_action."_

I heard him withdraw a shuddering breath and allowed myself a moment of triumph. "I don't know what you mean, Miss Swan," he replied, in a voice that told me he knew all too well what I meant. "Would you care to extrapolate?"

I wondered how far we would let this go, but didn't ponder for too long.

"Oh, I think you and I _both_ know where I'm heading with this," I said, laughing softly.

"Do we? Where's that exactly?" he said teasingly. I grinned.

"Why don't you tell me...?" I replied, trying not to get too worked up. It was just a game, after all.

There was a pause. "I have a better idea... why don't _you_ tell _me_. And I wouldn't mind if you told me what you're wearing at the same time," he added thoughtfully.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" I asked in a husky voice.

"Well I suppose that depends. What do you look like, first of all?"

"Oh please, so that you can have an image of me in your sick little fantasies?" I demanded, the teasing gone now.

"That's a little presumptuous, isn't it? What makes you think you're good enough to star in my fantasies?" I could hear the grin in his voice.

I decided to go out on a limb here. A really long limb. "But I do, don't I? I bet you'd love to hear me moan," I replied mischievously.

"Well, show me your best moan and I might consider adding you to my mental library," he replied.

"I'm not a phone slut, buddy. It'll take a lot more than that if you want to hear a moan out of my mouth," I said, almost daring him.

"Well, what do I have a better chance of? Selling you the insurance or hearing you moan my name?"

My knees were going weak at the sound of his voice.

"Why don't you try for both? Neither has a chance of happening," I said. "Especially seeing how you've never told me your name."

"Maybe I don't want to," he replied. "What if you start stalking me?"

"This coming from the person who calls me daily, even though we've never met. That's rich."

"Would you like me to stop calling?" he challenged. I gulped.

Honestly? No. But I sure as hell wasn't admitting that.

"You'd still call no matter what my answer was."

"Can't argue with that. Maybe if you behave I'll tell you my name."

"Wow, what an honour," I said sarcastically.

"I'm glad you appreciate the gravity of the situation."

"Well maybe I could start trying for my reward now?" I asked, pretending to sound hopeful.

"Go ahead."

"Right now," I breathed. "All I want to do is..."

And then I hung up and stumbled back to bed.


	5. You Tease, You

As promised, here is Edward's perspective of the previous chapter.

**EPOV**

_I walked the rest of the way to the gym with my mind full of the angel in the shoe department._

I couldn't focus for the rest of the day. Gym passed quickly, though I vaguely recall Emmett complaining that I wasn't conversing as much as I normally did. Or to put it as eloquently as he did, 'talk, motherfucker!'

I spent the afternoon walking around the mall, thinking about those stunning brown eyes. I tried to imagine the other things about her that I couldn't tell by sight.

Like what was her name? What did she sound like? How was she personality-wise?

My mind did the best thing it could out of its imagination, and combined my two infatuations.

Her name was Isabella Swan. She sounded like an angel, but she looked like a goddess. She had a sarcastic sort of wit, but she was really very sweet. She was perfect.

My thoughts took a turn for the worse when I realised such a person didn't exist. I was obsessed with a figment of my imagination.

I gave up trying to catch another glimpse of her and instead made my way home. It was early evening now, but my thoughts were just as scattered as they'd been all day.

I flicked through the TV but found nothing of interest. I flicked through my book collection but nothing grabbed my attention. I tried surfing the net but no websites contained anything worth staying on for.

Finally I gave up and decided to go to bed early. Maybe I'd have some psychic dream which would let me know which way my life was headed.

I lay in bed, tossing and turning. I punched my pillow into shape sometimes. My mind was all over the place, and it frustrated the hell out of me.

I'd only seen this mystery woman for one minute, for god's sake! Nobody had ever had this effect on me. Nobody except...

I sat up straight, wide awake. Isabella. I'd forgotten to call her.

I quickly jumped out of bed and rushed for the phone before it got too late and I'd have to wait until tomorrow.

I dialled her number by heart and waited patiently. She was expecting me, after all.

The phone picked up and there was silence for a bit.

"He-hel-hello?" she said, in the middle of a yawn. I grinned, happy just to hear her voice.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I asked cheerily.

"Yeah, who's this?" she was clearly tired, or she would have recognised me by now. Her blunt phone manners made me laugh.

"You!" she suddenly gasped, startling me. Why was she so surprised? She knew I was planning to call, after all.

"You interrupted my sleep, asshole," she told me flatly. I fought not to chuckle again, but glanced quickly at the clock, and was slightly shocked. I'd been tossing and turning until midnight?

I had to answer quickly before I got an earful of rage. "Hello to you too." So maybe that wasn't the best response to assuage her mood.

And then she made a noise that was basically an instant boner for me. She growled, and not a weak little half-growl either. It was a full on sexy growl, similar to one I imagine she might use in the bedroom. Looking like that woman from the shoe department. I was so caught up in images that I barely heard her hiss, "What do you want?"

I fought to remain coherent, and not like some weird sexual predator. "I-uh, I want... shit, you sound hot when you're mad," I mumbled, so quietly that she wouldn't have heard it.

"Excuse me?" she said shrilly, sounding wide-awake all of a sudden. My heart skipped a beat. She'd heard that?!

Arousal should come with warning labels.

Warning: being turned on may make you think you're whispering when you are not. You pervert.

Better think quick, Edward. A light bulb went off in my head.

"I just needed a way to wake you up so you could properly converse," I said with as much confidence as I could muster. "Did you really think I was serious?"

If I made her doubt herself, she wouldn't be as quick to doubt me. I still felt like an ass saying it though, 'cause I was actually incredibly serious.

Several seconds passed. I imagined her stewing with rage. "What the _fuck_ is your problem?" she finally spat. Hmm, I was getting better at reading her reactions.

Her rage only made her sound hotter. "My problem?" I asked, voice dropping without a conscious decision. In fact everything coming out of my mouth didn't have permission to do so. "My problem is the fact that I'm on the phone to a woman with an incredibly sexy voice. And all I want to do right now..."

I managed to break off and stop my traitorous mouth right before it called me out on my sexual deviancy. I paused, regaining proper control on my wild thoughts.

"Yes?" she said dubiously.

Time to play it cool. Act as though I was planning this all along. I lowered my voice further; it was no more than a loud whisper now. "All I want to do right now is sell her life insurance."

She laughed scornfully. "Oh, you put on a good show, I'll give you that."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thank god she bought my act. "I like to think so," I said smugly. I never knew I could act.

Her next words shocked the hell out of me. They were in the same light and mischievous voice she'd used the other night, but the edge was gone. It wasn't unnerving at all, just extremely erotic.

"But is that all? It seems to me like you're all talk and no... action." She breathed out the last word, and I realised then that I'd stopped breathing altogether. I drew in a shuddering mouthful of air.

Was she serious? Or was she just yanking my chain? There was only one way to find out.

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Swan," I said, though it was obvious I did. "Would you care to extrapolate?"

_Please, _please_ let her be serious,_ I found myself begging. I shook my mind. Sure, she sounded fantastic, but that's all. I shouldn't be developing any further feelings than lust.

And I wasn't... I don't think.

She chuckled gently, and the sound made me shiver. "Oh, I think you and I _both_ know where I'm heading with this."

What the hell did _that_ mean? Was she serious, or just playing around?

"Do we? Where's that exactly?" I said teasingly to hide my confusion.

"Why don't you tell me...?" she said slowly. Oh no way, sister. I wasn't going to potentially embarrass myself like that. I took a few seconds to think, then injected a little confidence into my mind. _Just treat it like a game_, I thought, _that way you can say you were never serious, and you don't have to answer anything you don't want to_.

"I have a better idea... why don't _you_ tell _me_," I persisted. Well, I might as well play the game fully. "And I wouldn't mind if you told me what you're wearing at the same time."

I really did want to know that one. I imagined her in a skimpy negligee, or even better, just in her underwear...

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" she replied in a sultry voice. Yes, yes I would.

First things first, though.

"Well I suppose that depends. What do you look like, first of all?"

If she said anything along the lines of pale, heart-shaped face, mahogany hair or chocolate eyes I wasn't sure what I would do, but spontaneous combustion would be near the top of the list.

"Oh please, so that you can have an image of me in your sick little fantasies?" she asked, serious all of a sudden. Well kind of, yes. Best to just dodge that question.

"That's a little presumptuous, isn't it? What makes you think you're good enough to star in my fantasies?" I asked, grinning at the thought that I even questioned that.

"But I do, don't I? I bet you'd love to hear me moan," she replied in a flirty voice, making me almost drop the phone. Uhh, hell yes, I'd love to hear you moan!

"Well, show me your best moan and I might consider adding you to my mental library," I told her nonchalantly. She didn't even have to, her voice alone was enough. But if she wanted to, then that was an extra bonus.

"I'm not a phone slut, buddy," she replied, then her voice turned almost challenging. "It'll take a lot more than that if you want to hear a moan out of my mouth."

Well damn, I was up for the challenge.

No. _No._ Insurance. You just want to sell her insurance then you'll stop calling. I was surprised when that thought was accompanied by some weird ache in my chest.

I needed to know if she was any closer to relenting.

"Well, what do I have a better chance of? Selling you the insurance or hearing you moan my name?"

"Why don't you try for both?" she said casually. Yes, Ma'am. "Neither has a chance of happening. Especially seeing how you've never told me your name."

My heart both dropped and rose at those words. I didn't like the way she sounded so positive at the 'neither has a chance of happening', but at the same time she clearly wanted to know my name. Edward. Would she hate it? I didn't want to find out.

"Maybe I don't want to. What if you start stalking me?" I teased.

"This coming from the person who calls me daily, even though we've never met. That's rich."

Touché.

"Would you like me to stop calling?" I argued. Her answer wouldn't make a difference, but it would be good to know what she thought of me anyway.

"You'd still call no matter what my answer was," she replied. Damn it, she was just as good as me at question-avoiding. Maybe we could teach seminars. Together.

"Can't argue with that," I admitted. "Maybe if you behave I'll tell you my name."

"Wow, what an honour," she replied sardonically. I kind of expected that.

"I'm glad you appreciate the gravity of the situation," I said gravely.

When she spoke she sounded hopeful, but it also sounded exaggerated, put on. "Well maybe I could start trying for my reward now?"

"Go ahead," I shrugged.

"Right now," she said in that breathy tone, and I felt a stirring downstairs again. "All I want to do is..."

Yes? Do what?

The line went dead.

What?!

Did she just hang up on me? I stared at the phone, stunned, before shaking my head slightly and placing it back on the hook.

As I stood under the cold water of the shower five minutes later, I realised that Isabella Swan had me well and truly wrapped around her little finger.

*

The next morning I was found sitting in my cubicle next to that annoying douche Mike Newton. Why hadn't he been fired yet?

Oh well, I could ignore him. It was easy to tune out his bumbling voice, really.

And what better way to do that than to call the lovely and irresistible Isabella Swan?

Oh wait. She was annoying and pissy... right?

I shrugged it off and dialled her number, waiting eagerly, er... patiently.

By the thirteenth ring (not that I was counting or anything) she still hadn't picked up.

I hung up, disappointed, but decided to try again in a couple of minutes. Maybe she was in the shower or something.

The next time the phone picked up almost straight away. She sounded like she was almost... panting?

"H-hello?" she sounded out of breath. I relaxed as her voice washed over my ears.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I asked politely.

"Like you don't already know it's me," she replied in an amused voice. Well, that was true. But what did she expect me to say? 'Hello, practical stranger whom I keep calling just to hear your voice, how are you today?'

"Good point. And now we have the pleasantries out of the way, how would you like to purchase some of our quality—" I started, mainly because I was unsure what else to say.

She cut me off in an annoyed tone. "Oh god, do we have to go through this every time? Can't you think of a better conversation starter?"

I had to admit I was getting sick of the script myself. But therein lay the problem. The only excuse I had to keep calling was the life insurance. I was calling every day under the ruse of selling her something. Ditching the life insurance story would mean me actually admitting the depth of my feelings for her...

So I deflected the question. "Well, what would you prefer I start off with?" I smiled to think of the possible answers she'd come back with. She always managed to surprise me.

And today was no exception.

"Uhh," she moaned, apparently forgoing the expected response that generally involved words.

_Hottt. _I was immediately aroused. Like I'd never been before in my life.

I scooted my chair behind my desk to hide any embarrassment and dropped my voice so Mike wouldn't hear me.

"Not a phone slut, my ass. That was a moan and you know it," I hissed.

She scoffed. "That was a moan of pain, asswipe."

I immediately felt a mix of guilt and fierce protectiveness wash over me.

"What happened? Are you OK?" I asked urgently. I didn't know what had come over me; mood swings to give a hormonal teen a run for their money weren't often a part of my life.

She laughed gently. "I'm fine, silly, I just tripped," she assured me. I was relieved and a little embarrassed.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "that's like the first time you haven't called me any names associated with 'ass'."

"Apart from when I kinda had to," she amended. I felt a twist of nausea at what could have been.

"Er, right," I agreed. She laughed again, relaxing my muscles like some sort of miracle cream.

"Speaking of names, you have to tell me yours," she told me, sounding mischievous. I did a double-take. Uhh, what?

"Since when?" I laughed.

"Since I'm getting sick of calling you jackass, asshole and asswipe. And technically, you kind of owe me that now," she told me. I was still slightly confused, though I did enjoy that she no longer felt like insulting me. I enjoyed that a lot, actually.

"I appreciate that you've stopped comparing me to buttocks, but why does that mean you need to know my name? I'm really not against you calling me 'silly'," I told her. In fact, I'd love it even more if she went back to 'honey' and 'sweetie'. I didn't get my hopes up though. 'Silly' was enough for now.

She giggled. "Last time you called, you said that you would reward me if I moaned for you, correct?" she said confidently. I was slightly taken aback, but if anything her boldness only turned me on more.

"I suppose..." I said, uncertain where she was headed.

"Well, I moaned," she said victoriously. "So tell me your name."

Oh, she played sneaky, that's for damn sure.

"You can't get my name out of me on a technicality like that!" I said indignantly. I wanted a real moan before she'd get my name, damnit.

"Technicality, my ass," she said in a rough voice. This woman just kept getting hotter. If she kept doing this type of stuff to me, I swear I might sexplode.

"What about your ass?" I grinned. Maybe I could distract her by getting her to divulge secrets about how she looked.

"What would you like to know about it?"

I was a little stunned. I'd expected her to go back to insulting me, but playing along? I was impressed and thrilled.

"Where to start?" I said, mostly to myself. Truth be told so many questions suddenly flooded my head that I had trouble picking out just one.

Isabella giggled, and I narrowed my eyes as an unwelcome thought entered my head. "Wait a second..." I said suspiciously. "Are you actually going to answer, or just laugh at me and hang up?" I wouldn't put it past her.

"I'll strike you a deal," she said slowly. "I'll answer one of your questions, no matter what it is, if you tell me your name."

"Five," I replied quickly.

"Three," she said.

"Deal," I agreed, the perverted section of my mind soaring. "OK, then, I'll start with an easy one," I said.

"I don't like how ominous you sound..." she said uneasily.

"Can't go back on your word now," I told her cheerily, then lowered my voice so Douche Newton wouldn't overhear my questions. "What type of panties are you wearing?"

I couldn't believe those words had actually come out of my mouth. I almost felt like a tool asking them, but thankfully she answered with an even voice. "Boyshort style."

That style was easily in my top five. The fact that they were masculine made the girl wearing them seem even more feminine, for some odd reason. "Sensible," I said after consideration.

I didn't realise I had potentially offended her, until she retorted defensively. "Don't judge. They may be plain old cotton and all, but they've got a cute pattern and a little bow and I only wear them when I'm working out..."

I didn't let my mind focus on that image too long, or else I'd start drooling on the computer in front of me. "Do you work out often?" I grinned.

"Does that constitute another question?" came the snarky reply.

I chuckled. "OK, OK, I retract my last question. I'd like to imagine you work out often, though."

"Yeah? I bet you'd like to imagine a lot more about me than just working out," she said cheekily. If only she could see the things running through my head. Actually, I'd prefer she didn't.

"Cocky little thing, aren't you?"

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out. Damn it, time to move on before she realised just how much I was into her. Because let's face it, she was no longer 'just another client' to me. I liked her. A lot.

"Because, if I recall correctly, _you_ were supposed to be answering _my_ questions," I told her smugly.

"Hmph," was all she said in response. I imagined her (or rather, the shoe-department lady) pouting, and it was honestly one of the cutest images my mind had created, ever. Tap-dancing bunnies had nothing on the picture in my head.

"Question two," I smirked, then searched my mind for a good one. "Hang on, are these questions restricted to your ass, or can I ask anything?"

"Don't be greedy," she immediately reprimanded. "It's my ass or nothing."

I grinned. "Well when you put it that way... curvy or flat?"

"God damnit, your name better be worth it," she grumbled, but answered nonetheless. "I suppose I'm in between."

"You call that an answer?" I said indignantly. "That's as vague as me saying 'I suppose my name starts with E'."

"Ooh, does it?" she replied keenly. Wow, she really did want to know. I was kind of flattered.

"I'll tell you if you expand on your answer," I replied resolutely.

"Well I wouldn't say that I'm curvy in all the right places, compared to my friend, at least. But my genetics weren't cruel enough to leave me completely flat. I suppose to put it simpler, I'm squishy but not so much that your hand would get lost," she said quickly. "That a detailed enough answer for you?"

I didn't know how to answer that statement without saying the words 'fuck', 'me' and 'now', so instead I just gulped and said, "Yes, my name starts with 'E'."

"Last question," she trilled, and I had to focus to get my mind working again. At the moment I had many different ass images in my head.

I cleared my throat. "Right. Err... " I searched my mind for a good one, when suddenly my boss' voice called out.

"Cullen! No personal calls while working!" he barked. I jumped slightly.

"I, er, have to go," I muttered quickly and regretfully to Isabella, then hung up.

Swivelling around, I saw Newton standing next to my boss, looking at me warily. The little rat had snitched on my so-called 'personal call'.

Ahh, who am I kidding? There's nothing professional about my feelings for Isabella anymore.

*

I went to the gym alone that afternoon, seeing how work kind of prevented me going with Jasper and Emmett in the morning.

I started on the treadmill to warm up, and absentmindedly did some people-watching as I jogged.

To my right was an overweight man walking as fast as his legs would take him; it wasn't that fast.

To my left was a woman with vibrant red hair. She was running surprisingly gracefully, almost felinely, and her gaze was fixated on a point in front of her. Her eyes never deviated away from where she'd placed them.

I followed her line of vision curiously, to discover that she'd been ogling a man on the weights ahead of us. He was talking to an olive skinned man who was spotting him.

I looked back at the woman surreptitiously to read her expression more closely. Desire, fury, and maybe a hint of love. A lover's tiff, perhaps?

She got off the treadmill and disappeared somewhere, but I continued watching the man on the weights. Something about him made me uneasy.

I moved on to the row machine in order to be within hearing range. Their discussion seemed quite heated, and curiosity got the better of me.

"It's fine, man. She didn't even know we were there. We'll just try again tomorrow," said the man with light brown hair. He seemed very self-assured.

"I don't know, James. What if something like last time happens again?" said the darker skinned man, looking around shiftily. Things were definitely not quite right here.

"We won't do it while she's at home. It'll be easy, Laurent, don't be a pussy," the man named James brushed away the concerns with ease. So maybe they were planning to rob her?

"Where, then? And when?"

"I overheard her saying she's gonna be at the bookstore around the corner around lunchtime. We'll just wait around till she's done with that," James shrugged. I was getting nervous. Just what exactly were they planning?

"You'll do anything to get laid, man," Laurent said, shaking his head in amusement. I felt a wave of nausea course through me. I got the feeling they were planning something much more sinister than robbing her.

"Yeah, well since Vicky's not putting out, I need other options," James said, anger twisting his features. "And let's face it, 'Beautiful' is hot." I wasn't sure I could listen to much more of this.

Laurent, who'd had shifty eyes during the entire conversation, noticed me looking in their direction.

"C'mon, let's hit the showers," he muttered, and they disappeared to the change rooms.

I stopped rowing, and sat on the machine in silence for several minutes.

I couldn't work out anymore after hearing that disturbing conversation, so I packed up my gear and made my way home.


	6. A Kink in the Works

I'm not sure whether you're aware or not, but there are a few little drawings accompanying this story. If you're interested in seeing them let me know and I can put the links on my profile, or just check out this story on Twilighted.

Thanks for all your great reviews. They keep me writing.

**BPOV**

"_Would you like me to stop calling?" he challenged. I gulped._

_Honestly? No. But I sure as hell wasn't admitting that._

"_You'd still call no matter what my answer was."_

"_Can't argue with that. Maybe if you behave I'll tell you my name."_

"_Wow, what an honour," I said sarcastically._

"_I'm glad you appreciate the gravity of the situation."_

"_Well maybe I could start trying for my reward now?" I asked, pretending to sound hopeful._

"_Go ahead."_

"_Right now," I breathed. "All I want to do is..."_

_And then I hung up and stumbled back to bed._

I woke early the next morning, a little more on the tired side after waking in the middle of the night. Truth be told I'd been tossing and turning for several hours before I'd dropped off again.

I wandered into the bright kitchen, yawning widely. Alice was already there, holding out a steaming mug of coffee. I took it silently with a nod of thanks, and drew a sip.

"Ahh, that's better," I sighed, closing my eyes and relaxing as the warm caffeine spread through my body. I opened my eyes to find Alice watching me with amusement. "What?" I said defensively. I always got a little unnerved when stared at for no reason.

"Nothing," Alice smiled. I narrowed my eyes, and her smile grew.

"Just spit it out, Alice," I said, rolling my eyes and fetching the cereal.

"How come you're so tired?" Alice smirked. "Someone get a little phone call?"

I grimaced. "Yes, actually, and it's _not_ what you're thinking," I said sternly.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at me sceptically.

"I'm serious!" I insisted. "All I did was get mad at him and... er...yeah," I finished lamely. I didn't want Alice to know about our faux-flirting, or who knows what conclusions she'd come up with.

Alice looked at her watch, and jumped slightly. "I have to be at work, so I'll talk to you later. I want details next time, Bella," she called over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.

"Sure, sure," I called back, then focused on finishing my cereal.

Once I'd finished my coffee and sufficiently woken up a bit more, I decided to go for a quick workout at the local gym. I didn't really visit that place often enough, and my fitness levels were suffering because of it.

I paced myself through the hour on the machines, and felt more energised and awake than I'd felt in ages as I strolled out of the gym and back home.

The elevator ride was, to my immense relief, uneventful but as I approached my door I suddenly heard the phone go off.

"Crap," I muttered, racing through my door and for the kitchen. I didn't even make it that far. As I rounded the corner separating the lounge and the kitchen my shoe caught on the wall, and I tripped magnificently. I ended up sprawled on my stomach in the kitchen, with the phone ringing just out of reach and a tremendous pain in my left ankle.

"Great," I moaned, "juuuust great."

I ignored the phone for now, instead sitting up and grasping my foot gingerly between my fingers. It was swelling already.

The phone stopped ringing, allowing me to fully concentrate on pulling myself up and grabbing some frozen peas from the freezer. The effort to pull myself up had me puffing again; guess the gym didn't do as much as I'd hoped.

I sat on the counter right as the phone went again, and I quickly picked it up.

"H-hello?" I said, still puffing slightly.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I heard the familiar timbre of Mr. Persistence's rich voice, and felt my heart skip a beat.

"Like you don't already know it's me," I replied, gripping the ice against my aching ankle. He hesitated for a second.

"Good point. And now we have the pleasantries out of the way, how would you like to purchase some of our quality—"

I interrupted him. I guess pain made me a little less patient than usual. "Oh god, do we have to go through this every time? Can't you think of a better conversation starter?"

"Well, what would you prefer I start off with?" he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

What _did_ I want him to start off with? I wouldn't mind if he spoke about his body (I imagined him to look exactly like the man I saw in the department store—sigh), or if he started singing. His talking voice alone sounded musical, imagine what his singing voice could do!

As I thought, I readjusted my foot, and a pesky little pea pressed right into the point off pain.

"Uhh," I moaned involuntarily, hastily readjusting the cold packaging. When it felt better again I still didn't have an answer to his question, but he seemed to have moved on.

"Not a phone slut, my ass," he whispered in a low voice. "That was a moan and you know it!"

I bit my lip to keep from moaning for an entirely different reason, but rolled my eyes at the same time.

"That was a moan of pain, asswipe," I scoffed. I was about to tell him off a bit more, but his next words softened me considerably.

"What happened? Are you OK?"

I smiled, pleased that he seemed to care so much. "I'm fine, silly, I just tripped," I laughed. It helped that the pain was starting to ease.

"You know, that's like the first time you haven't called me any names associated with 'ass'," he said thoughtfully.

"Apart from when I kinda had to," I reminded him.

"Er, right," he said awkwardly, causing me to laugh again.

"Speaking of names, you have to tell me yours," I stated matter-of-factly, grinning devilishly even though I knew he couldn't see me.

He laughed. "Since when?"

"Since I'm getting sick of calling you jackass, asshole and asswipe. And technically, you kind of owe me that now," I said as I gently prodded my ankle to see where it hurt the most.

"I appreciate that you've stopped comparing me to buttocks, but why does that mean you need to know my name?," he replied casually. "I'm really not against you calling me 'silly'."

I giggled at his words. If he didn't mind 'silly', I wonder if he wouldn't mind the words running through my head lately. I shook my head clear. 'Sweetie' and 'Babe' would definitely freak him out.

"Last time you called, you said that you would reward me if I moaned for you, correct?" I asked boldly. I didn't know where the boldness came from, however, as I hadn't consumed any alcohol recently. Unless the gym spiked its water.

"I suppose..." he replied slowly.

"Well, I moaned. So tell me your name," I said triumphantly.

"You can't get my name out of me on a technicality like that!" he huffed.

"Technicality, my ass!" I growled. I couldn't remember why I was pressing the point so much. It was just a name, after all.

"What about your ass?" he replied cheekily. I decided to play along, just a little bit.

"What would you like to know about it?" I smirked.

He was quiet for a moment. "Where to start?" he muttered quietly, and I couldn't help let out a small laugh, knowing he was actually serious.

"Wait a second..." he said guardedly. "Are you actually going to answer, or just laugh at me and hang up?"

And that's when I got an awesome idea. "I'll strike you a deal," I said carefully. "I'll answer one of your questions, no matter what it is, if you tell me your name."

"Five," he replied. Cheeky little pervert.

"Three," I conceded.

"Deal," he agreed. Good lord, what have I gotten myself into. I listened carefully. "OK, then, I'll start with an easy one," he said slowly.

"I don't like how ominous you sound," I told him nervously.

"Can't go back on your word now," he said happily. When he spoke next his voice was low and husky, and I wondered if he was intentionally being sexy, or if it just naturally radiated off him like that. "What type of panties are you wearing?"

I blushed a deep red, even though he couldn't see me or my undergarments. But I'd promised to answer any question, so I took a quick peek down my jeans to refresh my memory.

Ohh right, I wore my workout panties. I made my voice as even as possible as I answered. "Boyshort style." I didn't think I could get any more out without my voice shaking from embarrassment.

He was quiet for a moment, and I feared that he would instantly be turned off and hang up and never call again. Hey, I never said I wasn't irrational.

But then he spoke. "Sensible."

I didn't like that that was all he had to say. "Don't judge," I said defensively. "They may be plain old cotton and all, but they've got a cute pattern and a little bow and I only wear them when I'm working out..." I trailed off, covering my mouth as I realised that I'd just ranted to a relative stranger about my panties.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind. "Do you workout often?"

"Does that constitute another question?" I replied hopefully. That one was easy to answer, and not too embarrassing, either.

He chortled. "OK, OK, I retract my last question. I'd like to imagine you work out often, though." Damnit. I'd almost gotten out of what I'm sure would be another embarrassing question.

"Yeah? I bet you'd like to imagine a lot more about me than just working out," I grinned. Where the hell was all this confidence coming from?

"Cocky little thing, aren't you?"

Apparently. "You didn't answer my question," I persisted. I didn't know why I was persisting so much. What if the answer was bad?

"Because, if I recall correctly, _you_ were supposed to be answering _my_ questions," he said. He had me there. I imagined him poking his tongue out victoriously.

"Hmph," I grumbled, crossing my arms and allowing my legs to dangle over the edge. My ankle only ached a little now. Apparently flirting (whether faux or real, I wasn't entirely sure) was a great pain reliever. Who'd've thought?

"Question two," he said, then paused slightly. "Hang on, are these questions restricted to your ass, or can I ask anything?"

"Don't be greedy!" I scolded. "It's my ass or nothing."

God forbid he start asking about my nipples. Although I had to admit this talk about body parts was getting me a little riled up.

"Well when you put it that way... curvy or flat?" my blush, which had started to fade, returned full force. Despite my physical embarrassment, I still retained that odd courage, the source of which remained a mystery.

"God damnit, your name better be worth it," I muttered, then considered the question. I honestly wasn't sure. I wasn't flat like Alice, but I certainly didn't have curves like Rosalie. "I suppose I'm in between," I said finally.

"You call that an answer?" he demanded. "That's as vague as me saying 'I suppose my name starts with E'."

"Ooh, does it?" I replied eagerly. I wasn't adverse to 'E' names at all.

"I'll tell you if you expand on your answer," he said firmly. Damn.

"Well I wouldn't say that I'm curvy in all the right places, compared to my friend, at least. But my genetics weren't cruel enough to leave me completely flat. I suppose to put it simpler, I'm squishy but not so much that your hand would get lost," I summarised. "That a detailed enough answer for you?"

He was quiet for a moment, and I feared I'd scared him off. "Yes, my name starts with 'E'," he said, his voice husky again. I had to fan myself to keep from overheating.

"Last question," I sang, hoping he'd have mercy and just go ahead and tell me his name.

He cleared his throat. "Right. Err..." he murmured. I bit my lip, hoping the question would be hard to answer.

From the other line, I suddenly heard a different voice. "Cullen! No personal calls while working!"

I raised an eyebrow. Since when was I a personal call? Wait... Cullen! So it might not be his first name, but at least I knew his initials now.

"I, er, have to go," Mr. E. Cullen uttered quietly and hung up. I sighed slightly. There was no denying it now.

I liked him. A lot. Now how could I figure out if he liked me too?

*

That afternoon was spent shopping with Alice, who insisted that I still needed more clothes. I agreed to go along, but only because I was suffering an E. Cullen induced haze, and didn't have the sense to object.

As we walked (rather slowly, what with my sore ankle) out the elevator, Alice was asking me where I was being interviewed, in order for her to pick the best outfit. I dutifully answered, and explained the location so that she could meet me afterwards for lunch.

Whether it would a sympathetic or a celebratory lunch we weren't sure yet. I swept that thought out of my mind and followed her into the street.

We arrived at the store and Alice immediately went into her obligatory frenzy, while I followed her around contemplating Mr. Persistence.

I couldn't just announce that I wanted to jump his bones, could I? Not only might he think I was joking and essentially wound my ego, he might then take me seriously and outright reject me. I wasn't at a stage in my life where I was ready to be snubbed by a telemarketer.

But I didn't want to keep being a bitch. That would only turn him off me. Did he even like me in the first place?

Ugh. Why did this have to be so confusing? I huffed in irritation, causing Alice to knock on the changing room door.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just so frustrating, you know?" I griped.

"What? Is it too big? Did you want me to go grab the next size down?" She asked, probably trying to peek through the gap. Oh right, I forgot she couldn't read minds.

"No, it's fine. And eyes to yourself, please," I scolded.

"Well I had to check. Nice bra, by the way."

I rolled my eyes, but I had to agree with her. "I know," I replied smugly, as I stepped out in the outfit Alice had put together.

She declared that it was perfect, and that I had to lend it to her once I was done with it.

We made our purchases, grabbed some low-fat smoothies, and made our way home.

*

I sat on my bed, worrying about the interview the next day and listening to my iPod. A ring tone interrupted my favourite song, and I scattered my practice questions and ran (more like ran-limped. My leg was still kinda sore) for the phone.

"Hello?" I said, absentmindedly testing my weight on my ankle.

It was _his_ voice that came through, and made me lose concentration and accidentally push all my weight on my foot. I crumpled to the ground as he spoke. "Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?"

"Nope," I ground out through the pain, heaving myself up and sitting on the counter. Hygiene, my ass.

"Then who's this?" he asked, voice full of amusement.

"Bob," I replied lightly, flexing my feet.

He chuckled. "My, Bob, what an exceptionally feminine voice you have there."

I couldn't help laughing in response. At least he hadn't tried to sell me life insurance.

"Well, Bob is, uh, short for Isabella Swan," I said absentmindedly as I inspected my nails.

"Indeed."

What did I say now? I had several things running through my head...

_Two calls in one day? Someone's eager..._

_Two calls in one day? You sure know how to make a lady feel special..._

_Two calls in one day? I want to jump your bones_

In the end I settled on, "So to what do I owe the pleasure of two calls in one day?"

"Nothing better to do," he replied nonchalantly. Fantastic. So now I was the I'm-so-bored-I-might-as-well-call-that-weird-lady person.

"So glad I can pass the time for you," I replied sarcastically, on the verge of hanging up just to spite him.

"I also wanted to apologise," he added quickly, and I smiled in victory.

"Oh?" I said slyly. "You better make this good if you expect me to stay on the line..."

He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry for basically hanging up on you earlier today. It was very rude of me."

God damnit, I was stuck. I wanted very badly to rub in his defeat (weakness, Rosalie would say), but I had an overwhelming urge to melt at the sincerity in his tone.

Curse E. Cullen and his irresistibility!

I melted. "It's OK. You couldn't help it."

I really shouldn't mock E. Cullen's 'weakness' when I'm not much better myself.

He was silent for a moment. "What are you wearing?"

His voice was so deliciously sinful that I felt myself getting turned on immediately. I tried to play cool. He seemed like he was going somewhere with this, so rather than abuse him like I usually would be at this point, I played along.

"Nothing..." I murmured. I heard an odd gagging noise from his line. Satisfied, I continued. "...spectacular, really, just some shorts and a tank top."

"Cruel, Isabella. Very, very cruel," he wheezed. I giggled, happy that I could have such an effect on him. Maybe getting him to like me would be easier than I thought.

"Why do you ask?" I said, as innocently as I could.

"No reason," he replied faintly. "How was your day?"

I wasn't done having fun with him yet. I wanted to know just how much of a reaction I could get out of him.

"Oh, pretty average. Went to the gym, talked on the phone, had a session with my vibrator, went shopping, just the usual," I said as indifferently as I could muster.

His response came immediately. "Uh...wait...um... what was that?"

I laughed giddily. So I _did_ have an effect on him... right?

"Just seeing if you were paying attention," I said sweetly.

A low groan met my ears, and I almost moaned in response. Luckily I regained control of my vocal cords before they could betray me like that.

"And how often do these little _sessions_ happen?" he asked boldly. I felt my cheeks redden immediately. Why did the stuff I say always come back to bite me in the ass?

I totally could have come back with some witty response that would shut him down, but I decided it would be way sexier to stutter like an idiot. "W-why do you ask?"

"Well, I need to know when the best time to swing by is," he replied casually. Oh. We were playing _this_ game, were we?

Bring it, Mr. Cullen.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I smiled. "Are you implying that you know where I live?"

I paused. _Did _he know where I lived? I wasn't sure whether the telemarketers got an address as well as a phone number. In any case, knowing my full name was the best way to find my address.

As I considered this, I realised I didn't care even if he knew my address. For some odd reason, I felt the strangest sense of comfort and safety whenever I spoke to him. Hell, even when I just thought about him. That is, until...

"That's a very nice top you're wearing," he murmured quietly. I froze for a second, then leapt off the counter (being careful to land on my good foot) and made my way for the window. I was satisfied that he wasn't hanging from my ledge, when he spoke again. "Turn around."

My heart jumped into my throat, but strangely it wasn't fear that had it racing. Stalkers are never OK, but somehow Mr. Persistence made the concept strangely arousing. If he was even here. Which he probably wasn't.

Nevertheless, I slowly spun on the spot, my eyes darting sceptically around the room.

"Made you look," he said mischievously through his chortles. I narrowed my eyes at the cordless, and a growl erupted from my throat.

"That's not nice, playing on my insecurities like that," I scolded, holding a palm over my pounding heart.

"I'm sorry," he replied, actually sounding genuine. "That was unfair. How will I make it up to you?"

Oh good grief, man, never ask a horny lady a question like that!

My mind immediately started a montage of shameless images, each of them showing in great detail exactly how he (or the dude from the department store, seeing how that's how I imagined him) could make it up to me. A number of responses were already gathering in my head.

_You really could come over, and I'd let admire more than just my top._

_You could help me with another of my 'sessions', I promise I'll share my toys._

_You could fuck me._

My breath caught in my throat, and I tried to ignore my vivid imagination in order to not stammer as I answered.

"You could, uh, help me with practice questions. I have a job interview tomorrow."

"Sure," he replied cheerily. "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, the usual, just pretend you're the interviewer," I shrugged. I resisted fetching the notes I'd left on my bed. I wouldn't be able to take them with me tomorrow, after all.

"So, Isabella, tell me about yourself," he said uncertainly. Hah. That was the first answer I'd memorised. But I was still a little unsure of rehearsing my answer. He was a virtual stranger, after all. Kind of.

"You promise not to stalk me, or do anything else potentially creepy?" I hedged.

"Of course I don't! Calling you every night is the highlight of my day, and technically, it's kinda stalker-ish," he reminded me. I laughed. He had me there. What more harm could knowing my age do?

"Fine, but I'll warn you now that knowing about my boring life is probably likely to repel stalkers," I advised.

"I'll take my chances," he said wryly. "Now stop stalling."

I raised an eyebrow at apparent eagerness. "Sir, yes, Sir, Mr Slave Driver," I joked.

"Please, just call me Slave," he chortled. I inhaled sharply. Second worse thing to say to a horny woman, right after 'How will I make it up to you?'

Maybe I needed to write a book, to educate men all around the world. It would include chapter titles such as _Things Never to Say When She Has PMS, Things Never to Say During Sex _and_ Things Never to Say, Ever._

I could see the bestseller status now. Right after I saw all the things I was doing to my new slave.

I think he's turning me into a nymphomaniac.

"What does that new title entail?" I asked breathlessly, the interview questions all but forgotten for me.

"Well, it depends on how hard a master you are."

Sigh. I'd be having another session tonight, that was for damn sure.

"I can be quite the task master," I said playfully. "I hope you have good stamina, 'cause you'll need it."

"I hope you have a strong pelvis; I'd hate for you to get a hip replacement so young," he responded quickly and smugly. Hot _and _witty? I think I'm in love.

Err, and by love, I mean lust. Right?

"Whoa, down boy," I laughed.

"Yes, Master," he replied, joining my giggles. I rather liked it when he called me that.

I heard a door creak, and my head snapped to the source of the noise.

Alice appeared in the doorway of the guestroom, bleary-eyed and pissed off. "You better let me in on the joke, Bella, 'cause I didn't get woken up for nothing," she hissed.

"Go back to bed," I whispered back, covering the mouthpiece. "I'll take it to the bedroom so I don't disturb you."

She didn't say anything, but she crossed her arms as she watched me disappear into my room to take the phone next to my bedside off the hook. When I went back into the kitchen to put the cordless back into the cradle, she was still glaring.

"I'll be right back, slave, I'm just switching phones," I whispered cheekily; I didn't stop to hear his reply. I hung up the cordless and turned to Alice, who looked slightly less pissed. I'd apparently peaked her interest.

"Who's that?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her question. "I promise I won't wake you up again. Goodnight."

I closed the door to my bedroom and bounded onto my bed to pick up the phone off my pillow.

"Sorry about that," I said, settling myself in. "I accidentally woke my roommate up. It's all good now."

"Good to hear. So where were we...?"

Husky voice and everything. I gulped to try and steady my breathing. It sounded out of tune, even to me. I couldn't think straight when he spoke like that.

"I believe the words 'slave' and 'strong pelvis' were tossed around," I replied steadily.

"Ahh, of course, how could I forget?" he teased.

"I'm not sure, but if you don't remember next time you'll be subjected to all my kinky punishments," I said, my voice dropping without me really controlling it.

"Oh?"

"That's right, 'oh'," I said firmly. "You don't even want to know what I have in mind for you."

"Am I close in guessing it involves bondage and spankings?"

"Don't be a pussy," I grinned. "You'll be begging for bondage and spankings once you've had a go of my whips and chains."

"I know I asked you to tell me about yourself," he said through laughter. "But isn't this a little too personal?"

Oh, right. The interview. I really did need to practice for it. But... no more sex talk? How disappointing.

"Sorry, I digress. But let's skip the first question, shall we? I've already got that answer memorised."

"Moving on, then..." he mumbled. "Why do you want this job?"

I racked my mind for the answer I'd memorised, and managed to recite most of it without complication. Mr. Cullen seemed kind of impressed. That or he really enjoyed praising me in his 'interviewer' voice. He asked me a series of questions, most of them quite easy to answer.

Then, using the same voice, he asked a question that caught me completely off guard. "And what type of panties are you wearing today, Miss Swan?"

My cheeks burned. Not only was it from the question itself, but because I just remembered the underwear Alice had insisted I wear to shopping today in order to get the best shape in the tight clothes I'd be trying on.

I kept up the charade. "Well, Mr. Cullen, I decided to go for a black thong today. You'll be pleased to know it looked fantastic in the skirt I was wearing."

"E-excellent answer," he stuttered, his voice still managing to sound like velvet. "Next question..."

"Yes?" I prompted, laughing.

"What makes you think I'll give this job to you and not somebody else?" he sounded almost like he was challenging me.

I considered his question carefully. "The trick is to relax the throat muscles and suppress the gag reflex..."

"GAH!"

I was immediately worried that I'd gone too far... until I realised that the voice had been distinctly feminine. And that I'd also heard it from outside my door.

I hoped the police wouldn't be too hard on me when they found Alice's body.

"I have to go," I seethed through gritted teeth to a probably very confused E. Cullen. "If I don't answer when you call tomorrow, come bail me out of jail."

I hung up the phone and stomped to the door. Poking my head out, I saw the cordless abandoned on the floor, with no one in sight.

"Oh Alice, dearest," I called in a deathly sweet voice. "Come join me in my bedroom, won't you?"

"I don't want to," I heard her say fearfully from around the corner. "You have a homicidal edge in your voice."

"I promise to go easy with the whips and chains," I trilled back. _Even better for a slow, painful death._

"I'd rather a promise _against_ physical torture," she replied, but she inched her way around the corner, looking at me sheepishly.

I cracked my knuckles menacingly. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. What's your choice?"

"Easy way," she whimpered, scurrying past me with her tail between her legs.

"Wise decision," I muttered, snapping the door shut and locking it.


	7. Ooh, Naughty!

Thanks for all your reviews, they always make me so giggly. And now onto the EPOV version of last chapter. I know this is kind of just a repeat of last chapter, so this Friday I'll be posting a mega long (9000 words) chapter that you will _not_ want to miss! It's pretty full on, but not in the lemon way. More in the sadistic James and his schemes kinda way. Sorry if you don't like reading that type of stuff. But it will be the chapter where... oops, almost gave something away then. Let's just say a LOT happens next chapter.

**EPOV**

"_You'll do anything to get laid, man," Laurent said, shaking his head in amusement. I felt a wave of nausea course through me. I got the feeling they were planning something much more sinister than robbing her._

"_Yeah, well since Vicky's not putting out, I need other options," James said, anger twisting his features. "And let's face it, 'Beautiful' is hot." I wasn't sure I could listen to much more of this._

_Laurent, who'd had shifty eyes during the entire conversation, noticed me looking in their direction._

"_C'mon, let's hit the showers," he muttered, and they disappeared to the change rooms._

_I stopped rowing, and sat on the machine in silence for several minutes._

_I couldn't work out anymore after hearing that disturbing conversation, so I packed up my gear and made my way home._

I ate my dinner in silence, contemplating the conversation I'd overheard. The more I replayed their words in my head, the more menacing they sounded.

As I finished my pasta I got a sudden and irrational urge to hear Isabella's voice. I made sure to check the time before I dialled. I probably wouldn't get a welcome reception if I called at midnight again.

She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" came the sweet lull of her voice, and like always, I felt myself relax immediately.

"Is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I asked politely, anticipating her response already.

"Nope," she said roughly, and as always I was caught by surprise.

"Then who's this?" I asked teasingly.

"Bob," she said happily. I grinned.

"My, Bob, what an exceptionally feminine voice you have there," I replied, not managing to hide my laughter.

She giggled. I tried not to dwell on that sound too much. "Well, Bob is, uh, short for Isabella Swan."

I smirked. "Indeed."

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of two calls in one day?" She asked curiously. I wasn't sure how to answer that without sounding like a stalker.

_I just wanted to hear your voice so bad..._

_I feel extremely protective of you even though we've never met._

_I wanted another chance to bask in your ambience and maybe ask to bone you._

"Nothing better to do," I replied with a shrug as I filled a glass with water.

"So glad I can pass the time for you," she replied bitingly, and I winced. Maybe that came out wrong.

"I also wanted to apologise," I said hastily, before she hung up or something. Man, if Emmett saw me crawling like this I'd never live down the whipping noises that would fly out of his mouth.

"Oh?" she said, voice dripping with triumph. "You better make this good if you expect me to stay on the line..."

God damnit, did she ever have me in a bind. On the one hand, I wanted to apologise and earn her praise and affection (ok, so maybe praise and affection was exaggerating a bit. I just didn't want her to be pissed at me), but on the other hand I needed to prove my masculinity by not pandering to her demands.

What would Carlisle do?

I sighed in resignation, hoping she wouldn't rub it in too much. "I'm sorry for basically hanging up on you earlier today. It was very rude of me."

"It's OK. You couldn't help it," she replied gently. Relieved, I moved to the lounge room to relax while I spoke.

"What are you wearing?" I asked. I was partly trying to gauge her reactions tonight, and partly trying to provoke her, but mainly I just really wanted to know.

"Nothing..." she said in a low voice, causing me to choke on the glass I was currently sipping from. Nothing?! Had I interrupted her bath again or something? My mind filled with images, and the resulting intake of breath from those thoughts only made me gag harder. Then she had to go and finish her sentence. "...spectacular, really, just some shorts and a tank top."

"Cruel, Isabella. Very, very cruel," I rasped, still trying to remove the excess water from my lungs. Now I'd have that picture in my head for the rest of the conversation. All aboard the Blue-balls Express.

She giggled coyly, and I closed my eyes in exasperation. "Why do you ask?" she said lightly.

"No reason," I said weakly. At least I was sure of her playful mood. I might be able to have fun with that. "How was your day?"

I needed her to distract me with boring details in order for my body to cool down. I couldn't believe the effect she had on me after just a few words.

"Oh, pretty average," she said casually. "Went to the gym, talked on the phone, had a session with my vibrator, went shopping, just the usual."

I felt a swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach, which immediately ventured straight to the little man. Please let her be serious.

"Uh...wait...um... what was that?" I spluttered. I really had to tone down the incoherent babbling thing if I wanted to make any progress with Isabella.

"Just seeing if you were paying attention," she responded through laughter; her voice sounded like honey.

I groaned in frustration. Why was she teasing me like this? Better yet, why was I taking it?

Time to find out if she could take it as well as she could dish it.

"And how often do these little _sessions_ happen?" I asked with a smirk. I liked to imagine they happened quite often.

"W-why do you ask?" she stammered. I grinned and kicked my legs up on the coffee table.

"Well, I need to know when the best time to swing by is." I shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said in mock suspicion. "Are you implying that you know where I live?"

I couldn't resist with the material she'd just given me.

"That's a very nice top you're wearing," I murmured, then paused for several seconds. "Turn around."

Her breathing had gotten heavier, and I instantly regretted making her scared. I was also amused as hell that she'd fallen for it. "Made you look," I chuckled.

She growled into the phone line, and I had to readjust myself again. I wonder if she intentionally made noises like that, just to drive me crazy.

"That's not nice, playing on my insecurities like that," she admonished sharply. The guilt washed over me immediately.

"I'm sorry, that was unfair," I admitted. "How will I make it up to you?"

I had several ways of making it up to her in my mind, but maybe she was adverse to the use of genitals as an apology. Her breath hitched oddly before she answered.

"You could, uh, help me with practice questions," she suggested. "I have a job interview tomorrow."

"Sure." I smiled. "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, the usual, just pretend you're the interviewer," she said. I'd never been an interviewer before, so it was actually harder than I thought. I racked my mind, trying to remember the sorts of questions I'd been asked last interview.

"So, Isabella, tell me about yourself," I said hesitantly. An interviewer would say that, right? I hoped she'd answer the questions fully, I was kind of eager to know more about her. OK, extremely verging-on-stalker eager. But she didn't need to know that.

She was silent for a while, but answered before I had to prompt her. "You promise not to stalk me, or do anything else potentially creepy?"

"Of course I don't!" I replied jovially. "Calling you every night is the highlight of my day, and technically, it's kinda stalker-ish."

She laughed warmly. "Fine, but I'll warn you now that knowing about my boring life is probably likely to repel stalkers."

I highly doubted that. There was nothing boring about Isabella. "I'll take my chances... Now stop stalling."

"Sir, yes, Sir, Mr Slave Driver," she said teasingly.

"Please, just call me Slave." I laughed. Her breathing did that weird hitching thing again. Maybe she had asthma.

"What does that new title entail?" she said breathily. So many scenarios ran through my mind that I had a hard time keeping up. There was a lot of leather involved.

"Well, it depends on how hard a master you are."

I vaguely noticed that not only had my breathing sped, but hers had too.

"I can be quite the task master," she said in a naughty tone. "I hope you have a good stamina, 'cause you'll need it."

Fuck.

"I hope you have a strong pelvis; I'd hate for you to get a hip replacement so young," I countered.

She giggled. "Whoa, down boy."

I joined in her laughter. "Yes, Master."

Isabella's laughter cut off suddenly, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong or something. You could never tell with women. They should write a book on proper things to say.

I heard muffled whispers from a different voice, then Isabella saying something about bed. There was silence for a while. I furrowed my brow, confused.

"I'll be right back, slave, I'm just switching phones," Isabella murmured to me. That made a lot more sense.

"Yes, Master," I said again, but I'm not sure she heard me. I heard her say something to the other person, then her voice was at my ear again.

"Sorry about that, I accidentally woke my roommate up. It's all good now."

"Good to hear. So where were we...?" I trailed off suggestively.

"I believe the words 'slave' and 'strong pelvis' were tossed around," she replied.

"Ahh, of course, how could I forget?" I grinned.

"I'm not sure, but if you don't remember next time you'll be subjected to all my kinky punishments," she said, her voice getting more seductive as she went on.

Well, sign me up and let's get this kink on the road.

"Oh?" I said.

"That's right, 'oh'. You don't even want to know what I have in mind for you."

Oh god. Seriously? I did want to know. Badly.

"Am I close in guessing it involves bondage and spankings?"

"Don't be a pussy," she said devilishly. "You'll be begging for bondage and spankings once you've had a go of my whips and chains."

I kind of did want to do something naughty purely for the punishment she was threatening.

I knew I wouldn't be able to last the phone call if we kept this kind of conversation up. Time to change the subject.

I laughed. "I know I asked you to tell me about yourself, but isn't this a little too personal?" I said, adopting my 'interviewer voice'.

"Sorry, I digress," she said. "But let's skip the first question, shall we? I've already got that answer memorised."

I wanted to object and insist she answer the question, but that didn't seem like a good way of going about things.

"Moving on, then..." I paused to think of a good question. "Why do you want this job?"

She recited her answer with almost perfect precision, and did just as well on every other question. I was extremely impressed, and told her so. I wondered if she could answer _any_ question with such eloquence.

"And what type of panties are you wearing today, Miss Swan?"

I crossed my fingers, hoping she'd go along with it.

"Well, Mr. Cullen, I decided to go for a black thong today," she said smugly. "You'll be pleased to know it looked fantastic in the skirt I was wearing."

I drooled. I literally drooled as her imagery filled my mind.

"E-excellent answer," I stammered. "Next question..." I wondered if she'd continue to go along with my rather risqué enquiries.

She laughed. "Yes?"

I decided that as long as I was asking a naughty question, I might as well push it to the limit. But then I chickened out.

"What makes you think I'll give this job to you and not somebody else?"

She seemed to consider the question briefly. "The trick is to relax the throat muscles and suppress the gag reflex..."

My body gave an involuntary shudder as she uttered the words. I wondered if she was some mysterious siren, sent to drive me insane.

A different voice interrupted her with a loud "GAH!"

I froze.

When Isabella next spoke she sounded like she had smoke coming not just out of her ears, but every other orifice as well. "I have to go. If I don't answer when you call tomorrow, come bail me out of jail."

And she promptly hung up. I hoped she wouldn't commit a murder, it was a bit of a turn-off for me. Not that I wouldn't still take her in a heartbeat, but running from the law might become a bit of an inconvenience.

I shrugged, put my glass in the dishwasher, put the cordless back in its cradle, and went to take care of my Isabella-induced problem.


	8. General Pain is Tougher

Sorry this update has taken so long. Things have been a bit hectic, and I needed to wait until it was updated on Twilighted.

I got a few comments from last chapter about including both POVs for the same events. I get that some people find that frustrating, but I personally love knowing both sides of the story. That's why I included them both in the same chapter though, so that anyone who doesn't want to read the second half doesn't have to. Sorry if you find that annoying, but you can't please everyone, I guess.

Another warning. This chapter contains some dark scenes (what else did you expect from James?), as does the illustration at the end (nothing too bad, though).

Enjoy

**BPOV**

"_Oh Alice, dearest," I called in a deathly sweet voice. "Come join me in my bedroom, won't you?"_

"_I don't want to," I heard her say fearfully from around the corner. "You have a homicidal edge in your voice."_

"_I promise to go easy with the whips and chains," I trilled back. _Even better for a slow, painful death.

"_I'd rather a promise _against_ physical torture," she replied, but she inched her way around the corner, looking at me sheepishly._

_I cracked my knuckles menacingly. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. What's your choice?"_

"_Easy way," she whimpered, scurrying past me with her tail between her legs._

"_Wise decision," I muttered, snapping the door shut and locking it._

I glared at Alice, who was perched nervously on the end of my bed.

My anger was out shadowing my humiliation at the moment, thankfully allowing me a clear head instead of the desire to bury myself under the covers and never come out.

"How much did you hear?" I demanded.

She twiddled her fingers nervously, refusing to meet my eyes. "I came in around the time you were talking about slaves and strong pelvises."

My eyes widened. "So... basically the whole conversation after I woke you up?"I asked incredulously.

She dared a glanced at me, noted the fury in my expression, and quickly looked away. "Yeah..."

"Oh, you are _so_ dead," I hissed venomously, narrowing my eyes and advancing on her tiny figure.

She looked back up at me, this time sporting a pout that could melt Antarctica. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I was curious. You know how I get..." she said in a tiny voice, hunching her body and batting her lashes.

_No! She can't win me over with her pout!_ I thought desperately. But apparently she could.

"Fine. I _won't_ kill you," I muttered in defeat.

"Yay! I get to live," she cheered, jumping up to hug me. I stopped her before she could wrap her arms around me.

"If you want to keep it that way, you'll reconsider this action," I warned. She wisely dropped her arms, and sat back on the bed.

"I won't kill you," I confirmed. "But I'm still furious with you, Alice."

"I'll make it up to you," she wheedled. "Don't be mad."

"That's _my_ choice, thank you," I retorted, pacing the room angrily.

"OK, how about I get you some chocolate while you, er, cool off?" she said hesitantly, scampering past me and closing the door behind her.

I rolled my eyes and dropped wearily on my bed. My anger was receding, and taking its place was mortification.

I ran over the conversation in my mind, burying my head further into the pillow every time I remembered a new innuendo. Alice was never going to let me live this down.

I wondered if she'd come back with the chocolate she'd promised, or if she'd take the coward's way out and just hide in her room. My answer came five minutes later when there was a light knock on the door.

"Come in," I said resignedly, though it came out slightly muffled through the pillow.

I heard her slip inside and sit beside me, and without looking up I held out my hand for the treat.

There was a soft chuckle from a velvet voice, one that definitely wasn't Alice's. The odd thing was, the sound came from exactly where I thought she was sitting.

I snapped my head up and sitting beside me, looking down at me with hungry eyes, was the man from the shoe department. My heart skipped a beat; I breathed in sharply.

"Hello, Isabella," he murmured. The blood rushed to my cheeks, and he chuckled again. He ran his finger across my blush, pushing the hair out of my face as he did.

"How'd you get over here so fast?" I whispered, pushing myself up to sit beside him.

He didn't answer, he merely leaned toward me, tilting his head slightly as he did. I knew what was coming, and closed my eyes in anticipation.

His lips brushed mine, and my mouth dropped open of its own accord. He obliged my actions and deepened the kiss.

He tasted divine. My mouth watered as I ran my tongue over his; it had a rich cocoa flavour.

"Mmmm," I moaned.

I needed to see him again, so I fluttered my eyes open.

And sitting there before me was Alice, smirking devilishly as she held a piece of chocolate in my mouth.

A dream. A perfect, delicious dream that had been cut short by the little person beside me.

"You better have a good reason for waking me," I mumbled sleepily, attempting to glare.

"I wanted to prevent you further embarrassment, and letting you continue to sleep talk wasn't the way to do that," she said amusedly.

"Good answer," I replied, now snapping a square and popping it in my mouth.

She scrutinized my face, clearly trying to gauge my anger levels. When she was satisfied that I'd cooled down sufficiently, she settled herself next to me. "So," she grinned expectantly, "who was that?"

"No one," I replied defensively, my mind still on the dream.

"Wow," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I didn't realise you could put a male voice on so well... or were insane enough to engage in phone foreplay with yourself."

I frowned and looked away, my mind not quite awake enough to come up with something witty. "You suck," I muttered, indulging my immature side. I drew the line at poking out my tongue though.

Alice didn't. She flashed me her tongue, then grinned. "By the sounds of the conversation I just heard, it sounds like _you're_ the one doing the sucking," she teased. I scowled, causing her to giggle.

"I don't want to hear it," I warned, as she opened her mouth again.

"No fun," I heard her mutter quietly. I rolled my eyes and took another bite.

Alice looked deep in thought. "It was Mr. Persistence, wasn't it? You two are getting it on behind my back, aren't you?" she grinned.

"No, Alice! Jeez..." I groaned. I wish.

"Well, gimme something, Bella!" she pleaded. "Why'd he ask about your panties if you're not hooking up at seedy hotels in blonde wigs and shades at midnight every Thursday night?"

I looked at her in confusion. "That scenario is... oddly specific."

"Long story," she said dismissively, waving my comment aside. "My point is, if you're having hot phone sex with this telemarketer, I want details. Does he talk dirty?"

I whacked Alice with my pillow. She didn't seem to notice, as her expression of expectation never wavered. "Well, does he?"

"I wouldn't know," I said curtly. "We've never _had_ hot phone sex."

"Oh," she said, her face dropping. "So he's bad in the phone-sack?"

I didn't like the way she was bashing his probably-perfect phone sex abilities. "No, he's not bad! Not that I'd know, but if there was a sack, not that there is, that is to say, will be, he... er... what was I saying?"

Alice was looking at me with that superior, all-knowing smirk. I hated that smirk. It meant that somehow she knew something I didn't. Stupid intuitions. "You have it so bad for him."

"I do _not_," I said sharply, drawing myself up indignantly.

"You can't even lie to yourself," Alice pointed out. "So your lies will get you nowhere here."

"Whatever," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

She still wore that smirk. "Did he tell you his name, by any chance?"

"I—that's none of your business," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. Like I was going to admit that I knew nothing about him.

She huffed in frustration, but let it drop. "Are you gonna meet him in real life?"

"Good God, no!" I said in horror. He'd probably take one look at me and laugh his head off; I would never willingly subject myself to that. "Honestly, Alice, why would you even suggest that?"

She pouted. "No need to be so blunt. At least give me false hope."

"I learnt my lesson the last time I gave you false hope," I replied, shaking my head ruefully. Alice laughed wickedly.

"You better sleep, Bella," she giggled, watching me yawn. "Just make sure I'm out of the room next time you start having sex dreams."

I felt my cheeks burning. "Do I even want to know what I said?"

Alice paused at the door and considered her words carefully. "Not if you ever want to look me in the eye again."

And with that she flicked off my light and snapped my door shut.

*

I strongly regretted allowing Alice to choose heels for the interview. Who needed heels for a bookstore anyway?

I was rushing down the busy street, hoping my slight limp wasn't evident as I bumped and tripped myself into every obstruction possible.

I finally found my destination after ducking through a shortcut alley, and completed the trip by almost falling flat on my face. Thankfully, I managed to slice five minutes off my travel from my shortcut, allowing a couple of minutes for my clumsiness and still making me perfectly on time for the interview.

I paused to steady myself outside the store, glancing at my reflection in the window. I had to hand it to Alice. As infuriating as she was, she sure did know how to throw a good outfit together.

I looked casual and professional at the same time, not appearing slutty by any means, but having some cleavage to look at just in case my interviewer was male. Not that I condoned that sort of behaviour, but the term 'by any means possible' wasn't too far off the mark for Alice. Or Rosalie, for that matter.

I ignored the dull ache in my ankle and yanked at my clothing self-consciously. Taking a deep breath and squashing my nerves, I stepped into the store and approached the counter.

"Hi, I'm Bella Swan," I smiled. "I'm, uh, here for the job interview?"

"Of course, Miss Swan, just wait right here and I'll go get the manager," the young lady at the desk said, eyeing my outfit with what I hoped was appreciation and disappearing out the back.

I stepped away from the counter and took in my surroundings nervously. The interior was rather quaint and cosy, and only one other person was browsing through the items.

He was dark haired and olive-skinned, and at the moment was taking in my appearance just as much as I was taking in his. He looked troubled by something and I quickly looked away, blushing. I hated getting caught staring.

Finally I was called to the back room for the interview.

"So, Bella, tell me about yourself," he said, smiling invitingly.

I opened my mouth and cleared my throat, ready to recite my over-practised speech, but all I could think of was whips and chains.

Yeah, this was a lost cause.

*

I shook hands with the manager (I'd forgotten his name already) and thanked him for his time. We both knew I wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

I walked slowly out the door, partly because I felt dejected, but mainly because my ankle was starting to throb.

The interview had finished earlier than anticipated, so I texted Alice telling her to just meet me at the restaurant, considering it was only a short walk away.

I considered my next interview as I walked, several days away yet, and reminded myself not to answer the phone the night before. Mr. Cullen was too distracting for his own good. Or rather, for my own good.

I turned into the alley, thankful to be out of the sun and in the shade of the darkness. I knew I would answer the phone as eagerly as any other night. Mr. Persistence was like a drug.

A trashcan fell over behind me, causing me to jump slightly. Predictably, my heel caught on a pebble and I tripped in a fantastic display of clumsiness, twisting my injured ankle in the process. Pain shot up my leg.

"Arghhh," I half-growled, half-squealed loudly. It was an odd noise. I hunched over my foot, cursing the wind or stray cat, or whatever caused the noise that startled me.

There was another clatter behind me, but I didn't bother turning around. I was too busy trying to clear my watering eyes and massage some movement back into my swollen ankle.

That's why his voice was so unexpected. "Are you alright, Bella?" he murmured. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I froze, not believing what I was hearing. I didn't dare turn around, for fear of confirming my suspicions. Instead, my eyes darted frenetically, taking in my surroundings. My mind came up with a nutshell of the situation.

Basically, I was halfway down a dark alley with an injured ankle and a sadistic man. _That shortcut's not looking like such a good idea anymore, is it, Bella?_ I asked myself sarcastically.

I didn't answer.

I gulped loudly, as a series of chills—that had nothing to do with the cold—ran down my body.

I remained silent, choosing to ignore his presence.

When he spoke again in that same murmuring tone, he was right behind me. "Let me help you up."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his hands encircle my upper arms tightly. I deliberately let myself flop as he attempted to lift me. I might as well have picked myself up, for all the good flopping did. He forcefully yanked me upright, his hands so tight on me that I knew there'd be bruises.

My courage returned as he roughly pulled me to face him. "Get your hands the fuck off me, James," I hissed boldly, staggering slightly when he released me. My ankle pulsed in angry protest.

I was surprised that he'd actually let me go, but attempted to make my escape regardless how futile it might be. I made it two metres before I crumpled to the ground again. I grasped my leg tightly, willing the stabbing pains to go away. James, too.

"Shit," I gasped quietly, rolling onto my back to see James advancing.

He stood over me, chuckling lightly. My stomach heaved with nausea.

"From now on, you'll do as I say," he ordered, his eyes roving up and down my body.

I scoffed, but made no more effort to acknowledge him as I sat up.

"That wasn't a request," he hissed, leaning over me. He grabbed my chin and pulled it to face him, forcing me to make eye contact. I locked my jaw defiantly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't forget who's in the position of power here, Bella. I wouldn't want to make me mad..."

He nudged my ankle in warning, while caressing my cheek with a clammy thumb. I clenched my jaw further in order not to show my pain. My ankle throbbed and ached mercilessly.

Straightening up, he sneered at me. "Get up."

I wondered if my throat was moist enough to scream. I tried to gulp through my ragged breathing. "And what if I don't?" I demanded, my voice hoarse.

Instead of answering, he just showed me.

Gripping my wrist tightly, he hauled me up effortlessly. He pulled me closer, leaned into my ear. "It's a pity your boyfriend isn't here to save you," he whispered, his hot breath irritating the hairs on my neck. He was right, though. There was no phone call, from Cullen or anyone else, that would help me now. What could I say? _Oh, excuse me, James. I really must take this call, so if you could stop molesting me for just one moment...?_

I tried to snatch my wrist away from his grasp, and managed to free my hands. Rearing back, I slapped him with all the strength I could muster.

He was stunned momentarily, and I took the chance to try and run again.

I forced my legs into action, biting my lip against the pain. From behind me there was a low growl, making my stomach turn.

I made it several metres before I sensed him behind me. A gust of his hot breath hit the back of my neck before he roughly grabbed my shoulder and jerked me to face him.

"Don't," he snarled, wrapping a slimy hand around my neck and flinging me violently away. I half staggered, half tripped backwards until my head slammed against the brick with a resounding _thud._

I cried out in pain, and instinctively reached up to feel the injury. Warm blood seeped onto my hand, a lot of it, and the smell made me gag. I vaguely noted that one of my heels had snapped off as I sunk against the wall, trying desperately to remain upright.

I looked up at James, rage and fear blurring my vision. Or maybe that was the head injury. He smiled kindly and sauntered towards me.

I bit my lip again as I struggled to push myself up. Swallowing again, I prepared to scream; running got me nowhere.

James clamped his hand over my mouth. "I see what you're doing," he hissed, pinning me against the wall.

I screamed against him, fought against his weight. Nothing worked.

My breath was coming in shuddering gasps through my nose, my chest heaving. James leaned back, his eyes gliding sickeningly slowly down my body. I felt nude.

"Enjoying the view?" I spat, hunching away from him. He didn't understand me of course, as he still had my mouth muffled, but I think he got the gist.

"You're quite enchanting, Bella," he said softly, stroking my cheek with the back of his free hand. I flinched away from his touch. "I've been watching you."

"Fuck you," I shot back stubbornly, shivering at his words.

He definitely heard that. He chuckled lightly, his hand trailing down my neck and lingering on my collar bone. "That's exactly my intention."

And he moved his hand down to grip my waist and pull me against him, brushing against my breasts as he did. I gagged again when I felt him against my thigh.

I redoubled my efforts, pushing and heaving against him, slapping at anything I could, kicking my legs frantically, biting at his palm. He held firm.

"Feisty, aren't you?" he said casually as I feebly slapped at his face. I was starting to feel woozy. There was a ringing in my ears.

I roared in frustration, slapping at his hand as it wandered down my waist, over my hip, and around to my bottom.

"Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me," I growled, biting at his hands to punctuate my words.

"Ouch. Fuck," James yelped, reflexively pulling his hand off my mouth. "You fucking drew blood!"

Good. I didn't respond, I just opened my mouth to let loose. I got barely half a scream out when I was silenced again, this time by James' mouth.

I was repulsed, and pulled back from him. My head hit the wall again, but he went with me, never breaking contact. I clamped my lips closed in an effort to keep him out.

"The more you fight," he said against my mouth, "the more it'll hurt."

And he pulled back quickly and backhanded me across the face. Fresh blood spilled from my nose, and then he was attacking my lips again.

I felt his hand groping my ass roughly, squeezing painfully. He continued to move his lips against mine.

I was dizzy, weak and bleeding, but I kept fighting. I moved my limbs in all directions, kicking, kneeing, punching, clawing.

_His_ hands never stopped either. He alternated from groping my ass to moving up and tugging at my shirt, kneading my breasts forcefully.

I tasted blood and realised I'd broken the skin on my lip from biting it so hard, but that was the least of my concerns. He now had one of my hands pinned above my head, his other hand exploring my body and attempting to undress me.

One of my flailing limbs finally connected solidly with something, and from the way he doubled over in pain, it wasn't too difficult to guess what.

I pushed his head away fiercely, and gathered a deep breath.

"Help!" I shrieked, my voice rasping. I gulped and tried again. "Somebody help!"

James smothered me with his mouth again, this time forcing mine open. I spluttered against his probing tongue, banging my fists against his head in despair. Tears were gathering in my eyes and flowing freely down my cheeks.

His hands moved to my top, unbuttoning my blouse. I slapped his hands away weakly, my vision getting darker, the ringing getting louder.

"You'll take your hands and mouth off her if you want to remain in one piece."

I did a double take, stopped fighting momentarily, for it clearly wasn't James who'd said that. The owner of the voice (who I couldn't see, what with the giant pervert obstructing my vision) only said it quietly, but it was filled with such menace, such hatred, that he sounded like he was about to kill someone.

But that wasn't the only reason I did a double take. His voice sounded strangely familiar, safe, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Whoever he was, I felt like dropping at his feet and kissing his toes.

James froze suddenly, and I took the opportunity to eject him from my mouth. I was dropped abruptly; the unexpected weight on my ankle was joined with a loud crack, and the accompanying torture made me collapse against the bricks, sliding down helplessly and crying out in pain.

I tried to look up, but the rust and salt smell was invading my nostrils, making me dangerously nauseous. I kept my head down, only noticing now that my shirt was undone and drenched with blood. I heaved, trying not to vomit. I must look awful.

"Make me," James replied cockily, and he grabbed me by the hair and pulled savagely. I cried out in agony, reaching up to grip his arm in order to release the tension on my scalp.

More tears of pain gathered in my eyes, making my blurry vision worse; I could only see an outline of my saviour.

With a ferocious growl, I saw the stranger leap at James, his fist connecting with his skull with a loud crack.

I was released again, and as soon as I hit the ground I mustered enough energy to crawl away. I only made it several meters before I succumbed to the pain and let myself drop. I licked my dry lips to find caked blood there. Ew.

From behind me there were grunts and growls, and a lot of noises that resembled flesh hitting flesh.

I flipped myself to face them; I had to see what was going on, before my vision got too blurry again, or my dizziness caused me to see double.

Suddenly a cell landed in my lap. I blinked up at the two fighting men.

At the moment the stranger had James up against the wall. "Call 911," he grunted, struggling to hold James down.

I didn't need to be told twice. I flipped open the cover, dialled frantically, and waited for a response.

At that moment my vision went dark, and I was enveloped by blackness.

*

"Miss? Please, wake up."

What was happening? My vision was black, my thoughts were a blur, and I was only aware of two things. One, there was an angel speaking in my ear, and two, I was aching all over.

No, aching was an understatement. The pain was unbearable in my ankle and head.

I finally connected that the reason I wasn't seeing anything was because my eyes were closed, and I promptly fluttered them open.

Though my sight was still blurry, it was better than before, and I blinked around at my surroundings. James lay several meters away, unconscious by the looks of it. Looking down at my body showed that I'd certainly been better.

My shoes were scuffed, one of them missing a heel, and my sore ankle was twisted in an alarmingly abnormal position. My skirt was covered in splotches of blood, and was torn up the side. Poor Alice, she never got a chance to wear it. My simple blouse was not only drenched in dark blood (from my scalp, I'm assuming), but I realised, with embarrassment, that it was completely undone, and my bra was hanging out for the world to see. I wasn't together enough to fix my shirt, only observe. My skin was covered in random bruises and cuts, and a quick once over with my hands showed that my face had several cuts too. My lip or my nose was still bleeding. Maybe both.

I still didn't know where the angel's voice had come from, but I was too disoriented to look.

I shifted slightly, to test the movement of my limbs, and an excruciating bolt of pain flared up my leg, causing me to moan slightly. I hoped it wasn't broken.

"W-where am I?" I slurred.

"Shh, you're safe now," said the voice, and I was able to determine where it came from now. I looked up, and sitting directly above me was... no!

What were the odds? It was _him._ The man from the department store, whose face I hadn't been able to clear out of my mind since. He was directly over me, and from the softness underneath my head, it was clear he was resting it on his lap.

He didn't look quite so healthy this time, however. His face was also covered in small cuts, and a nasty bruise was forming around his eye. He had a split lip too. Guilt immediately overwhelmed me. He wouldn't be in such a poor condition if it wasn't for me.

"You," I said in surprise, my voice hoarse.

He looked slightly confused, and it wasn't until I felt an odd pressure behind my ear that I realised he was attending to my wounds, pressing against my scalp to stem the blood. How sweet.

"What about me?" he said in bewilderment. With my breathing rapidly returning to normal and the blood loss slowing, my coherency was fast returning.

"N-never mind," I muttered. I eyed his injuries again. "Are you OK?"

He looked at me with an odd combination of confusion and awe. "I'm fine," he said reassuringly, then shook his head slightly. The bruise on his eye was darkening, and I tried to sit up to get a closer look.

"Stay down," he said in a soothing voice. "I'm not too sure what to do in situations like these but I'm pretty sure you should be lying down. I'll keep your head elevated so all the blood doesn't rush to it."

I wasn't too sure what to do in a situation like this either, so I didn't try and correct him. "What happened?"

"You, er... James attacked you," he replied, looking down at me worriedly.

"You _know_ him?" I asked incredulously.

"Er, no, I just overheard a conversation of his," he promised quickly, pressing against my head again. I wondered what he was using, then realised with a jolt that he wasn't wearing a shirt. In any other circumstance I would be frothing at the sight, but now I was just overwhelmed with appreciation. OK, so I was still kinda frothing.

I nodded slightly, looking down again. The details were still a bit fuzzy. "Then what happened?"

"I heard you screaming, and had a bit of a fight with him. You can see who won," he muttered darkly. "Don't worry, the police and ambulance are on their way," he added.

I looked up at him in gratitude, but he was looking somewhere else. He started blushing, looking back at my face, but not quite meeting my eyes. "I'd, uh, lend you my shirt, but I'm sort of using it for something else. You might want to fix your top... James managed to get it undone."

I looked down and remembered with a flash of mortification that my chest was still on display. Irrationally, I wondered if he was disappointed with what he saw.

I tugged my shirt over my chest, my blush not as strong considering the blood that usually filled my cheeks was filling my saviour's top.

And then I realised I couldn't go around calling him my saviour. "What's your name?" I asked. I would have been more polite about it but I figured being in this situation gave me some leniency when it came to manners.

"Edward," he replied simply, increasing the pressure on my scalp. "You?"

"Bella," I mumbled, contemplating his name. It was old-fashioned, but somehow it suited him.

I heard sirens in the distance. "You think that's them?"

He peered over his shoulder, listening intently. "I hope so. We need to get you to the hospital straight away."

I scrutinised him closely, but not just for his handsomeness this time. There was something awfully familiar about him, and I felt like it was staring me in the face. Any second now it would hit me, I was sure of it.

He turned back toward me, his expression strangely tender. "My father's a doctor at the nearest hospital; he'll take care of you."

I tried to smile. Even that caused pain, but I attempted to hide my wince. He noticed, of course. "Where does it hurt?"

"Here and there," I replied quietly. I didn't want to be fussed over; I wanted to be distracted from the pain.

He stared at me in disbelief. "You don't seem to care much about your injuries."

"Maybe it's the concussion," I joked. His smile dropped, replaced by concern.

"You think you have concussion? What should I do? Should I—"

I silenced him by reaching up and placing a finger over his lips. "Shh. It was a joke, silly."

His got an odd look on his face then, and he stared at me with an expression I couldn't read.

"What?" I asked, feeling stupidly self-conscious. As if he'd ever find a beat-up girl in an alley attractive in the first place. Especially one who couldn't joke.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head slightly.

I bit my lip, then winced when I snagged the cut. I hoped I'd be able to get through the next few days without biting my lip, though that seemed unlikely.

The sirens were getting louder now. I wondered how long I'd have to stay in hospital.

"Oh no!" I gasped, slapping my palm against my forehead. Stupid move, Bella.

"What? What's wrong?" Edward said frantically, brushing my hair from my face (I was strongly reminded of my dream from last night), and looking down at me anxiously.

"I'm gonna have to stand up my friend," I cried, patting my body lightly to try and find my cell. I must have lost it during the struggle.

His low chuckle made me freeze. It reminded me so much of my phone buddy, that for a wild second I thought it was Mr. Persistence above me, not some stranger named Edward.

I brushed away the thought as the sirens grew deafeningly loud. My imagination was playing games with me.

I heard two cars pull up somewhere behind Edward, and the caterwauls suddenly stopped.

A lot of what happened next was a haze of stretchers and EMTs, but Edward never left my side the entire time. I was about to be bundled into the ambulance when an EMT approached us.

"We'll take both of you to hospital to get treated, then the police will want to ask you some questions," he said, looking between us. We both nodded.

"Good. And we didn't catch your names earlier...?"

"Isabella Swan," I sighed, at the same time that he said "Edward Cullen".

My mind, although not that swift considering the circumstances, connected the dots quickly.

Edward Cullen... E. Cullen... Edward Cullen... E. Cullen...

It was him. E. Cullen was the man I saw in the shoe department. The man I saw in the shoe department was Edward, the man who just saved my life. And Edward was E. Cullen, the telemarketer. My brain worked at a feverish rate, connecting the dots.

It was the same person, all along. My mind wrapped around this fact with as much confusion as it did elation. How had I not recognised him before? How had he not recognised me?

I suppose we hadn't been chatting casually, like we normally did. His voice had been strained with stress, and I wasn't in much a condition for hearing things perfectly anyway. Besides, I had _sort of_ recognised him. I found his mannerisms familiar, his laugh especially.

I felt that inexplicable safeness with him that I usually associated with E. Cullen.

I finally comprehended everything, and by the time I turned my head to stare at Edward in a new light, he had already been looking in astonishment. In any other situation, I'd have found his expression of disbelief amusing, but I was pretty sure my face held the same expression.

"Isabella?" he whispered, blinking rapidly down at my stretchered form.

"Slave?" I murmured back, shocked. His voice sounded so incredibly familiar now that I didn't see how I could have missed it earlier.

I was dying to stay behind and talk to Edward more, but at that point I was wheeled into the ambulance; the doors were slammed shut between us.

I didn't protest (really, what would I say? _Put me back, I want to keep talking to my telemarketer!_), but I certainly wasn't pleased.

Would I ever see Edward again? Would E. Cullen (I was still having trouble with differentiating the two) ever call again after what happened today?

My mind swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't comprehend, and some I fought to repress. The blackness clouded my vision again and for once I welcomed it, slipping into unconsciousness and escaping my tangled thoughts.

**EPOV**

_When Isabella next spoke she sounded like she had smoke coming not just out of her ears, but every other orifice as well. "I have to go. If I don't answer when you call tomorrow, come bail me out of jail."_

_And she promptly hung up. I hoped she wouldn't commit a murder, it was a bit of a turn-off for me. Not that I wouldn't still take her in a heartbeat, but running from the law might become a bit of an inconvenience._

_I shrugged, put my glass in the dishwasher, put the cordless back in its cradle, and went to take care of my Isabella-induced problem._

The next morning dawned with a feeling of foreboding. I couldn't even explain it. I suppose it had to do with the words I'd overheard in the gym yesterday.

Unfortunately I had work this afternoon, so going along to the same location James and Laurent had discussed was out of the question.

I went with Jasper and Emmett to the gym, but stayed out of the conversation. The two of them were giving me weird looks all morning, which only added to my uneasiness.

I showered and changed, then went for a walk by myself; I barely even felt like people-watching today. My stomach felt like it was permanently in knots.

Across the road, the sharp click-clack of busy heels on the pavement stole my attention. A young woman was hurrying down the street, stumbling every so often, and bumping into a lot of people. Maybe that's why she was limping.

I wondered idly what her big hurry was, and found myself subconsciously matching her pace; she was intriguing.

But then she turned down a dark alley, and I couldn't see her anymore.

I slowed again, and wandered around until I saw the bookshop that the two men had been discussing. I hadn't even consciously made a decision to come here, and I knew I'd have to leave soon to get ready for work. I couldn't be late, my boss had already given me a warning for 'personal calls'.

Nevertheless, I found myself looking around for any suspicious activity. As I was looking at the quaint little store, a dark haired and olive toned man walked out nervously, who I immediately recognised as Laurent. His eyes searched around anxiously, and after a flash of recognition he strode across the street to a small diner.

Thankful that he hadn't recognised me, I went after him immediately. Inside, he'd taken a seat next to James in a private booth in the corner and they were both conversing in hushed whispers, looking out the window and at the shop every few seconds.

I sat in the booth behind theirs, making sure not to draw their attention as I sunk low enough not to be seen over the seats. I knew I was being slightly ridiculous, following two strangers with barely enough motivation to rule out the 'stalker' thing. The truth was, the only way I could get the ball of anxiety in my stomach to ease slightly was by keeping tabs on them; the way they carried themselves, James particularly, just screamed 'criminal'.

"...can't back out now, man, the whole plan'll be ruined," James hissed. Even I flinched away from the venom in his tone.

"Well... maybe it wasn't a good plan to begin with," Laurent replied firmly. He didn't fool me, though. Inside he was terrified of aggravating James.

James ignored this. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Do it by myself?"

"I don't care what you do," Laurent replied. "This isn't my fight, James. I'm getting tired of your games."

"You were all for it yesterday," James argued. "What changed your mind all of a sudden?"

Laurent shifted in his seat; his discomfit seemed to be growing. "I just... I don't think she... does she really deserve this?"

James laughed derisively. "Your conscience getting to you, Laurent? I thought I told you to scout the situation in that store, not grow a pussy."

Laurent huffed angrily, but didn't give in. "You can say what you want. I'm out."

His vinyl seat crackled; he was standing to leave. I panicked. What would he do if he saw me sitting here, eavesdropping?

Luckily, James pulled him down again. "Don't be so rash. She won't be done for a few minutes yet, let's just discuss this."

I didn't stop to hear Laurent's reply as I slipped from my seat and out the door, but something told me he wouldn't be changing his mind again.

Walking out the diner, I was surprised that the knot hadn't eased at all. It would be natural to assume that since Laurent had backed out, the logical action would be for James to do so too. Theoretically, I should have nothing to worry about now.

I ambled slowly up the street, lost in my thoughts. Even though this person should be in the all clear now, I had the feeling that James wouldn't give up so easily. On the contrary, he'd probably treat this as a challenge to really show Laurent what he missed out on.

He'd probably be more brutal, too, without Laurent to slow him down. I shuddered.

Glancing at my watch, I realised that if I was going to make it to work on time, I'd have to leave very soon. I sped up my pace, cursing myself for walking so slowly earlier.

People were no longer on their lunch breaks; the street was eerily quiet. From somewhere behind me there was a noise like a trashcan falling, causing me to jump. I started to laugh at myself, until I heard another noise, one that I would compare to an injured cat, but different somehow.

I hesitated, turning around to see where it had come from. I spotted the entrance to the alley that the young woman had rushed down earlier, but couldn't see any further than that; it was too dark. There was probably an injured animal in there, I realised. I considered going down to help it, but wasn't too sure I wanted the scratches accompanied with pissed off cats. Besides, I'd probably do more harm than good anyway.

I shrugged and continued on my way, though not as fast this time. I was still half considering going back to help the animal. Taking advantage of the silent street, I kept my ears alert for more noises.

It was a good thing I was listening so closely. From the same alley came a low growling noise. I halted again. Maybe it was a cat fight.

But then the next noise made me rethink this. It sounded like a cry of pain. A _human_ cry of pain.

Cocking my head, I took a couple of steps closer to the alley. The knot in my stomach was actually painful, twisting and coiling my insides.

I couldn't hear anything now. Must have been my imagination. Shrugging, I resumed the short walk back to my apartment.

I was about a block away from the alley when I heard another noise. A very sharp, piercing scream, which stopped almost as soon as it started. But it was definitely human.

I stopped in my tracks, torn. On the one hand I could ignore the scream (it was probably just someone playing around anyway) and make it to work on time, thereby keeping my job. Or I could check out the scream, so that I could assure myself that it was nothing sinister.

Sighing, I made my way back to the alley, cursing my masochism. Did I _want_ to get myself fired?

I was getting closer, rolling my eyes at myself, when I heard her.

"Help," she screamed hoarsely; the noise echoed in the alley. "Somebody help!"

My stomach lurched and I stumbled over my feet, before I took off sprinting. I would have gone running for anybody who yelled but there was something about this particular scream, and I couldn't quite place what it was, that triggered a monster in me.

My blood boiled as my feet pounded against the sidewalk. I rounded the corner, then decelerated so that I was silent as I entered the darkness and allowed my eyes to adjust.

I blinked rapidly, trying to force my eyes to see what was happening in the dim lighting. My heart was racing and my breathing shallow; I willed myself to calm down lest my panting gave me away. A few steps inside the alley and my vision adjusted to the scene before me.

What I saw had my mind whirring with pure hatred and rage. James. I should have guessed.

He had a frail-looking young lady pinned against the wall, his face shoved against hers and his free hand groping like it was a free-for-all. She was beating and slapping at him incessantly, her tiny fists banging against him in vain. He shifted slightly, and my stomach turned when I realised she was covered in blood. It was pouring from her nose, and another unknown location on her head, staining her top a dark red. It looked like bruises were already appearing on her face amidst all the cuts, though it was hard to tell; her hair was strewn over and around her flushed features.

My first reaction was to rip James off such a defenceless creature, throttle his neck, beat him past recognition, kick him till he stopped moving. I silently stepped forward, my body acting of its accord.

James' hands went to the girl's chest and started forcing open her blouse.

"You'll take your hands and mouth off her if you want to remain in one piece," I said, hardly audible over my pounding heartbeat. I could barely manage to get my voice at a level that could be heard, so strong was the blinding and inexplicable fury consuming me, constricting my vocal chords.

I could feel a truly homicidal rage pumping through my veins. Ironic, considering just last night I'd joked about finding it a turn-off in Isabella.

Their efforts both ceased momentarily, stunned by my silent arrival.

The girl was the first to recover. She promptly, yet still weakly, spat James away from her, and from the limited space of her face that I did see, she was clearly repulsed.

She looked like she was going to pass out any minute. Though her cheeks were flushed from the struggle, the rest of her was deathly pale.

I watched, seething, as James released her carelessly. Her face twisted in agony as a loud crack filled the alley. He'd fucking broken her ankle.

She cried out in pain, her voice cracking, as she slumped against the bricks and slithered to the ground. She didn't raise her head; maybe she passed out.

I looked back at James, who I hadn't even realised had turned to face me. His expression held smug arrogance. "Make me."

Not breaking eye contact, he gripped the girl's hair. He grinned sadistically and yanked roughly; she was pulled almost completely off the ground.

She wailed again (the desperate sound clawed at my insides) and gripped his arms feebly. James was still staring at me mockingly, daring me to challenge his nauseatingly degrading actions.

A sound built from somewhere in my chest, rumbling up my throat. I leapt at James, the sound escaping in a vicious growl, rough and guttural. My fist collided with his nose with a satisfying crack, causing James to drop the girl.

Before I even had to tell her, the girl was crawling away. I turned back to James as I shook my fist out, relishing the sting that presumably broke his nose.

He was glaring at me, and I barely had time to see the fist flying before there was an abrupt pain in my jaw. I growled again, and retaliated immediately.

His head snapped back with my hit, and he staggered backwards. I blocked one of his punches and landed another in his gut.

He doubled over in pain, giving me the perfect opportunity to push him against the wall. See if he liked a taste of his own medicine.

While straining to hold James back, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I glanced behind me for as long as I dared, to see the girl facing us but with her eyes down.

I tossed the cell phone at her lap, then turned back to James. In my peripheral vision I saw her look up in bewilderment. She must really be out of it.

"Call 911," I urged, grunting with exertion. I glanced her way again to make sure she was doing it when James lunged, landing a powerful punch on my eye that left dark spots in my vision.

I growled loudly, bracing my body to retaliate, when he broke out of my grip and shoved me against the brick. I felt the rough slabs perforating my skin. Blood spilled into my mouth from my lip.

Flipping me over, James went to town, targeting my face and stomach, while holding my head against the wall with a strong palm. I didn't care what he did to me as long as the girl got out safely.

I strained against him, moving my head enough to see whether she was obtaining emergency services.

When I'd finally manoeuvred my head enough, I saw with horror that she was sprawled on the ground, and this time there was no doubt in my mind that she was unconscious. The phone lay abandoned next to her motionless hand.

The surge of strength that followed me seeing that coursed through my body, and with almost a roar I pushed myself off the wall. In the same movement I spun and hit James with all the strength I could muster.

He dropped immediately.

Stepping over him in disgust, I didn't even stop to celebrate my victory. All I cared about was that the girl made it out alive.

Snatching up the cell phone, I held it to my ear as I leant down next to her. They were apparently tracing the call. That might take too long.

"Police and ambulance," I gasped, my voice harsh. I gave them the quick details and hung up. I needed both hands and full concentration.

I finally pulled full attention to the unconscious girl, and for a second my mind went blank. It was her. The girl from the shoe department. The one I had fantasized too many times to be sane about. Of course in my mind she was Isabella Swan, hers the only face I could picture to fit the luscious voice.

How ironic, I realised. How many times had I imagined Isabella in her underwear, and these were the circumstances I was thrust in? 'Isabella' was in her underwear all right, just unconscious and soaked in blood. The term 'karma's a bitch' came to mind right around now.

Suddenly the strong, almost irrational protection I felt for this stranger was explained. If possible, it intensified. I needed to fix her _now._

I surveyed the rest of her, considering what needed the most attention. The bruises and cuts that adorned her light skin weren't of utmost importance, so I did my best to overlook them. Someone might be able to save her shoes or clothes, but that decision was really out of my jurisdiction. The nosebleed would coagulate on its own soon enough. The giant swollen ankle was definitely a concern, but not one that I myself could address at the moment.

So first things first, that nasty head wound. I hastily pulled off my shirt, then gently lifted her head. The dark, mahogany waves that I'd so often imagined running my fingers through were knotty and matted with blood.

To my relief, the gash wasn't as long or shallow as I'd imagined. It was, however, still bleeding quite profusely. Lifting her head higher, I slid underneath so that she had my lap as a pillow, then pressed my balled-up shirt firmly against her scalp.

The unconsciousness thing had me slightly concerned, and I decided to rectify that.

"Isabella, can you hear me?" I said in a low but insistent voice. I tapped her face lightly, unsure of what to do.

Then I realised that I'd been calling her Isabella. _Way to project your fantasies into reality_, I thought mockingly.

"Miss?" I said again. She stirred slightly. "Please, wake up."

Her eyelids quivered slightly, before opening completely. I leant back, not wanting to overwhelm her as soon as she woke up. She looked around at her surroundings in bewilderment. Even injured and battered as she was, I was able to appreciate her beauty.

She was still for a minute or so, just examining the situation, before she shifted. Her bad ankle dragged across the ground, and she let out a quiet moan of pain.

Again, I was forcefully reminded of Isabella. I placed her out of my mind. I needed to focus on this woman right now.

"W-where am I?" she uttered, her voice slurring slightly. She looked terrified.

"Shh, you're safe now," I murmured as soothingly as I could. Her head snapped up, and her eyes met mine. Liquid chocolate.

She examined my face, recognition flashing across her face. "You," she said, though it wasn't accusatory at all; merely surprised.

I was puzzled. Why would she recognise me? She'd only seen a brief glimpse of me in the department store. Wouldn't she have forgotten me by now?

"What about me?"

"N-never mind." She shifted her gaze away from my eyes, but still on my face. Her eyebrows puckered in concern. "Are you OK?"

I looked down at her in awe. She'd just been beaten and almost violated by some creep in a dark alley, and she was asking me if I was OK. I shook my head slightly, confused as to how one person could be so selfless. "I'm fine."

Despite my reassurance, she shifted to try and get a better view.

"Stay down," I insisted. "I'm not too sure what to do in situations like these but I'm pretty sure you should be lying down. I'll keep your head elevated so all the blood doesn't rush to it."

She accepted my explanation and thankfully stayed down. "What happened?"

She honestly didn't remember? Maybe — hopefully — I just had to jog her memory.

I searched for the right words. "You, er... James attacked you."

She spared a glance for the lump of James several metres away from us. "You _know_ him?"

"Er, no, I just overheard a conversation of his," I told her quickly, as I checked to make sure my bunched up shirt was doing the job.

Her eyes raked over my chest quickly as she gave a small nod. "Then what happened?"

"I heard you screaming, and had a bit of a fight with him. You can see who won," I explained. "Don't worry, the police and ambulance are on their way."

She looked up at me with appreciation but didn't say anything. I felt uncomfortable, like I didn't deserve it when I could have been here so much earlier.

Looking away, it was suddenly obvious to me that her top was completely undone. I felt a bloodlust course through me as I observed the dark blood droplets splattered across her chest from her head. Not the usual bloodlust that I would have felt in any other circumstance (I would not sully myself by taking any part of James inside me), but the desire for his death.

Therefore, I didn't let myself think about her cream and roses skin, or the mesmerising way her collar bones curled away from the hollow beneath her throat.

I looked back up at her, and blushed when I realised she was still looking at me; had she caught me staring?

"I'd, uh, lend you my shirt, but I'm sort of using it for something else. You might want to fix your top... James managed to get it undone," I muttered, not managing to meet her eyes.

A faint pink filled her cheeks and she hastily pulled the blouse together. "What's your name?"

"Edward," I replied absentmindedly as I increased the pressure on her wound. Hopefully it would slow down soon. I was suddenly intensely curious. "You?"

"Bella," she said. Or it might have been 'Belle'. Between the sirens that were approaching and the softness of her voice I wasn't entirely sure I'd heard her properly. Either way, her name was beautiful.

She cocked her head slightly. "You think that's them?"

I glanced behind me, but couldn't see any vehicles approaching. "I hope so. We need to get you to the hospital straight away."

She'd get the best treatment possible. I'd personally make sure Carlisle was her doctor.

I turned back to her. "My father's a doctor at the nearest hospital; he'll take care of you."

She tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. "Where does it hurt?"

"Here and there," she muttered, brushing off my concerns.

I looked at her incredulously. "You don't seem to care much about your injuries."

She levelled me with a teasing glare. "Maybe it's the concussion."

Wait. What if she _did_ have concussion? I wasn't there the whole time; maybe James did manage to concuss her. That strange compulsion to protect her flared up again.

"You think you have concussion? What should I do? Should I—"

She placed a firm finger on my lips, her smile growing. I tried to ignore the sizzle of electricity that sparked at her touch. "Shh. It was a joke, silly."

I was again inexplicably reminded of Isabella Swan. Staring closely at the stranger before me, I tried to read her mind. Who _was_ she? Why was she so similar to my phone buddy?

"What?" she said defensively.

"Nothing," I replied, shaking my head clear again. I had to stop imagining everyone as Isabella. _This is getting ridiculous, Edward,_ I chastised.

She bit the cut on her lip, then winced. I watched her closely, checking for signs of concussion (this was difficult considering I didn't know what they were). She slapped her palm against her forehead. _Don't encourage the concussion, Bella!_

"Oh no!"

Oh no? Oh no what?

"What? What's wrong?" I asked anxiously, brushing her hair out of her face so that I could read her expressive eyes.

"I'm gonna have to stand up my friend," she pouted, and she started searching her clothing, presumably for her phone.

I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. She'd just been attacked and knocked unconscious, but she was worried about standing up her friend.

She abruptly stopped searching, and looked up at me with an odd expression. I didn't have time to question it, however, because at that moment the sirens were directly behind us. The cars pulled up, the sirens ceased, and we were immediately surrounded by medical personnel.

Everything happened quite fast, but I was pleased that they let me remain besides Bella the whole time. Eventually they got her on a stretcher (she tried to walk but was too weak), and had her by the van.

"We'll take both of you to hospital to get treated, then the police will want to ask you some questions," one of the EMTs announced. We both nodded silently.

"Good. And we didn't catch your names earlier...?"

"Edward Cullen," I said politely. At the same time, she sighed 'Isabella Swan.'

My head turned of its own accord, like some odd reflex to the name, and my jaw dropped. I _knew_ it!

OK, well maybe I didn't, but I knew she was familiar! Now that I thought back, I couldn't figure out how I didn't know sooner. It's like it was staring me in the face the whole time.

Isabella Swan, the witty, irresistible, _hot_ woman that I called each night was standing (ok, lying) right next to me. It was hard to wrap my head around.

I suppose it was understandable how we could have missed it, considering the circumstances. Her voice had never been how she spoke on the telephone (unless she screamed, cried, mumbled and slurred on the phone to other people), and nor had mine, when I thought about it.

Isabella (though apparently she preferred Bella – why had she never corrected me on this?) slowly turned to face me, her expression one of astonishment.

"Isabella?" I whispered.

She blinked up at me, eyes wide and slightly bewildered. "Slave?"

Again, I had to question how I never recognised her earlier. It seemed so obvious now.

I wanted to keep talking, for us to get everything out in the open, and talk and laugh about the coincidence (eventually), but at that moment she was bundled into the van, and the doors were slammed between us.

I sighed in resignation, and let a technician guide me to the front seat.

All the way to the hospital I was silent, drowning in my jumbled thoughts.

*****

OK, So I was really nervous about writing that chapter, because I don't write drama too often. Please, please, please let me know how I went, or how I could improve etc.

In any case, that was a whopper of a chapter, both in content and length. It's all out in the open now... what will happen next, I wonder...

So if you were wondering about the chapter title, it's actually a reference to one of my favourite Twilight spoofs, where James says "call me General Pain... it's a lot tougher than James." Here's a link: .com/watch?v=-PBTVpEEshw&feature=related


	9. Call Me Please?

You know how life gets in the way of writing? Yeah that happened again. So sorry. Next update will be much quicker.

Thanks as usual goes to all you fantastic reviewers.

I'm a little unsure about this chapter, but it had to happen this way for the story to move along the way it's mapped out. It's probably completely different to what you're all expecting, so please forgive me if you don't like it.

Oh, and yes I did borrow a couple of lines from Twilight, hope you don't mind. No copyright infringement intended.

**BPOV**

The first thing I was aware of when I came to was the lack of pain. It was bliss.

A steady _drip, drip, drip_ came from beside me, and when I managed to open my heavy eyes I spied the IV that provided the noise. I blinked, clearing my vision.

I had no idea what time it was, or how long I'd been unconscious. The door to my room was wide open, though I couldn't see or hear anyone from the corridor outside.

I wasn't ready to inspect my injuries yet. Instead, I picked up the phone on the table beside me and dialled slowly, anxious of the reaction that would await me.

It picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Alice, hi," I said, my voice husky from sleep. I cleared my throat.

"Isabella Marie Swan!" Alice squealed, causing me to jump slightly. Oh, now I could feel the pain. "Were you so desperate to get back at me for standing you up? I waited for an hour, you know. Where the hell were you?"

"I was-"

"And why the hell weren't you answering your phone? I called dozens of times!"

"It's still in the alle-"

"Where are you now? You weren't home when I got there. Are you with Rose?"

"Alice!" I said loudly, my voice still raw from overuse. "Quit interrogating me! One question at a time or else I'm cutting off your access to energy drinks."

"Fine," she said stiffly, clearly pissed. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in the hospital."

"Okay, and why didn't you answer my—wait, what? Why are you in the hospital? Honey, are you alright?" Alice went from anger straight to fretting in two seconds flat.

"I'm fine now," I assured her.

There was a pause. "What do you mean by _now_?"

I sighed. "There was an incident earlier today... involving James."

Alice gasped. Then there was silence.

"Alice?" I said tentatively. "You there?"

When she spoke, her voice sounded strained. "Rosalie and I will be there as soon as possible."

Then she hung up. I lay there in silence, still refusing to look down at my injuries. What happened to Edward? Was he here in the hospital too?

I realised I was still holding the phone in my hand, and when I placed it back in the cradle I noticed a piece of paper folded neatly beneath it.

I curiously unfolded it. "Bella," it read...

_I hope you're feeling better. I wanted to be there when you woke up, but the police insisted I go down to the station to make a statement. They'll want to question you when you wake up as well, so be warned. One of the policemen is absolutely insufferable. The doctors told me you should be out within the next few days. I won't intrude on you in hospital, but I'll make sure to call every night._

_Love Edward._

As I finished reading, a warmth spread through me. He cared. He would be calling. He'd signed it with _love_.

OK, so maybe I was reading a little too much into that part. But still, he'd taken the time to write the note. I held it in shaking fingers, looking down as a new feeling overtook me.

All this time I'd grown more and more attached to him, my infatuation growing. I'd tried to ignore it, but maybe that had made it stronger, like it was trying to break through. Now I realised it wasn't even an infatuation anymore; it was much, much stronger.

It was hard to admit this, even to myself... but it was undeniable now: I was in love with Edward Cullen.

I didn't know how long I sat there staring, but it must have been a while, because before I knew it Alice and Rosalie were bustling in, fussing over my injuries and discussing how best to murder James.

I shoved the note under the pillow before they noticed it, and figured I probably couldn't hold off looking down any longer.

My ankle was clearly broken, if the bulky cast was anything to go by. I was amazed that my skin had such a capacity for bruises. They were scattered all over me, amidst a myriad of little cuts and scabs. I didn't check in a mirror, but I assumed my face wasn't much better than the rest of me.

I stayed in the hospital for a couple of days, and the next morning two officers visited me. I dutifully answered their questions, but Edward was right. Officer Crowley was insufferable.

He made inappropriate jokes, and didn't get many questions asked. He told me the police might be calling my home if they needed any further information, despite me telling them I'd told them all I could remember. Alice and Rosalie patiently listened as I ranted about him.

"And right after he told me he might call my home, he actually asked me out," I bristled, crossing my arms angrily.

They were incredulous. "Seriously? After everything that happened?"

"That was his reason for it apparently. He wanted to take my mind off things," I snorted.

"Maybe he's just a little confused on how to cheer a girl up," Alice said thoughtfully. "Maybe if you gave him a chance—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," I said sharply. "Trust me, he's not my type."

"Psh," Rosalie grinned. "Since when did you have a type?"

Since I met Edward. "Since none-of-your-business," I said defensively. Maybe a little too defensively; Alice was giving me that all-knowing smirk again. "That's not the point. He's just creepy, you know? He calls me by my full name no matter how many times I've hinted that it's 'Bella'."

Only Edward could call me Isabella and get away with it.

"Oh." Rose wrinkled her nose. "So have you finished with all the questions?"

"God, I hope so. I'll be glad never to hear his voice again."

We talked for a little longer before Rose left, yawning. Alice settled into the portable bed beside me, reading a magazine.

Alice and Rosalie were both staying at my house, as it was closest to the hospital. They took to visiting me in shifts. Alice would be home sleeping when Rose came in and vice versa, despite my protests.

The next morning Rosalie came in, and Alice gave me a kiss on the forehead before slipping out the door.

"You guys are going to way too much trouble," I grumbled as Rose sat beside me.

"I don't want to hear it," she retorted, her voice holding an edge of maternal sternness. I hated being mollycoddled. "Besides, who else is going to answer your phone for you?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Someone called? When? Who was it?"

I knew I was sounding too eager, and I tried to rein it in. Rosalie raised an eyebrow. "It was that detective you hated. He was acting all suave, so I politely told him to fuck off and not to call again."

"Oh," I replied, my heart sinking horribly. "Good. I don't want to be interrogated any more. He was weird."

Rosalie wrinkled her nose in distaste. I hesitated slightly. "No one else called, did they?" I asked, feigning nonchalance.

"No, not that I can remember. But I was out for a bit, so you better ask Alice when you get home this afternoon."

I grinned. I was leaving today, back to the comfort of my own bed.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and soon I was hobbling back into my familiar apartment. I tripped often. Crutches were like my personal enemy.

Alice, Rosalie and I celebrated my release by having our chick flick night. I forgot all my troubles for once, and just settled down to watch _You Have Mail._

*

Following the weeks after 'the incident', he didn't call again. Not once.

I couldn't figure out his sudden change of mind.

It was as though Edward Cullen (I had repeated that name in my head too many times to be sane) and I had never met. He didn't try to contact me and I had no way of contacting him.

It wasn't like I hadn't tried. The first book I opened when I left the hospital was the phonebook. Nothing. Must be a private number.

So I wracked my mind, trying to remember every little detail of our conversations, until the memory of him mentioning the company he worked for popped up. After much research, and a little blackmail, I managed to get a hold of his workplace—or should I say, former workplace.

His boss didn't give me any details except that Edward Cullen no longer worked there. So... what? Had he quit? Did he anticipate that I'd try and contact him there?

_Why_ was he so against talking to me? What was it that turned him against me?

Maybe he didn't find me attractive anymore. The mystique of a possibly beautiful stranger over the phone was lost, now that he knew what I looked like. Plain. He didn't want to continue talking to a simple old boring person who he'd seen topless, and was apparently unimpressed with what he saw.

The only other conclusion I could come up with was that he regretted saving my life. I tried not to dwell on that too much.

Tried and failed.

If I was being perfectly honest with myself, almost every thought of mine was consumed with him. I was intrigued (and frustrated) with the mystery he presented, and more than a little obsessed with Edward himself.

I'd even resorted to shopping more with Alice, just so I could bump into him in the department store (no matter how slim my chances were). You heard correctly. _Shopping._ I ought to be ashamed.

Not just that, I found myself in that general area more often, just hanging out (or so I told Alice and Rosalie). Even I thought I was pitiful.

At the moment I was slouched back on Alice's couch, contemplating the gruelling task of moving my furniture out of my apartment. After my failed job interview, and the fact that I couldn't attend my second interview due to some pesky little injuries, I had run out of rent. I had to be out within the week.

Which meant I was staying with Alice for a while. I hadn't been back to my place much (though I was pleased to learn that my lock had _finally_ been repaired) after the first week, and when I had, it was only to collect essentials. Alice came with me, packing her version of my 'essentials'. I swear if we were stuck on an island, I'd be asking for food and water while she'd be asking for her cell and some Jimmy Choos.

The dreams that had plagued me continued, but they had changed. The irresistible voice still drew me in, but then rejected me, laughing cruelly as I ran through a never-ending dark alley. James starred in my dreams almost every night, and it wasn't unusual for me to wake up sobbing and sweating.

I was miserable.

I tried to look on the bright side, of course. James was in police custody at the moment, awaiting trial. My cast was coming off tomorrow. I now never left the house looking unfashionable.

Nevertheless, I still couldn't shake the gloom that constantly surrounded me. I felt like I was suffering from withdrawal.

The front door slammed suddenly, and I jumped. Alice floated over to me, beaming.

"Alice?" I said warily. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She could barely contain her excitement. She was doing little bounces on the balls of her feet; it probably wasn't even a conscious action. "Like what?"

"Like you've just discovered how to turn lead into shoes. Your eyes are doing that weird darting thing."

"Oh, I can't hold it in!" she grinned. I was surprised that she'd gone that long. "You have a date, Bella!"

I burst into laughter. "Oh my god.... you're serious?" I panted between fits of giggles. "Hahahaha...no."

"Bellaaa," Alice whined, but I turned away before she could unleash the full power of her pout. "You need to get out more! All you've been doing is sitting around moping."

"That's not true," I said indignantly. "I've been sitting around _recovering_. Like you told me to do, remember?"

Alice scowled. "Yes, but you lost your social life in the process. When was the last time you spoke to anyone other than me or Rose?"

"Last night," I said frostily. "Emmett and I had a very heated discussion about what colour looks best on Rosalie."

"OK, let me rephrase. When was the last time you were out on a date?" Alice responded.

"I... it was... it's none of your business," I sulked. Could you count getting cleaned up in an alley as a date? We'd even engaged in the typical getting to know each other—but I stopped my thoughts before they could continue. It was too painful to remember, knowing as I did now that he wanted nothing to do with me, and probably never did in the first place.

"That's what I thought," Alice said smugly.

I crossed my arms, still frowning. "You can think all you want Alice, but I don't want to go out to dinner with a potential weirdo who I've never met." That was only the half-truth. Stupid as it was, I almost didn't want to betray Edward. And I especially wasn't ready to meet anyone new, now that I knew my heart belonged to _him_.

"Oh, come on, Bella. It'll be fun," she wheedled.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, sure."

"No, it will," she insisted. "He's a really nice guy!"

I looked her directly in the eye. "How much are you going to nag me if I don't go?"

She smirked. "Honestly, do you really have to ask?"

I was afraid of that. As swiftly as I could, I weighed up my options. Days of Alice nagging and sulking, versus a meal with a stranger, which I could get out of at anytime if he turned out to be Sir Creepsalot. I could do worse.

"Fine, I'll go," I sighed, causing Alice to clap loudly and pull me into a hug. "But! If this doesn't work out you owe me big time."

"Deal."

"And you have to text or call me in the first fifteen minutes to see if I want out."

"Done."

She sat down beside me, still grinning. "It's in three days, on Thursday. Oh, I have the perfect outfit for you!"

She raced into my room, and I heard the ruffling of her ransacking my wardrobe. Fuck my life.

*

I checked my cell for the umpteenth time today. No calls, missed or otherwise. Since I'd started living with Alice I was having all calls to my apartment directed to my cell.

It was Thursday, the day of my 'date'. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I hated surprises, and going out to dinner with someone I'd never met was no exception.

Much to my chagrin, Alice hadn't even provided his name, let alone a description. I had to remind myself multiple times throughout the week why I was friends with her.

At least she'd come up with a killer outfit. Literally. The shoes that she'd picked out for me were likely to be my cause of death.

Which is why my current location was my old apartment, rummaging through my limited footwear options in my virtually empty room. Not much was left, save for my bed and a few sets of clothes and miscellaneous items. The rest had gone into storage until I found another job and apartment.

Wasting no time, I pulled out the least scuffed pair of ballerina flats, and shoved them on my feet. I checked my reflection in the mirror. Alice had done my makeup, and Rosalie had done my hair. I actually felt pretty tonight.

I still had an hour before I was to meet 'him'. So I took the time to stop forwarding calls to my cell; as of Saturday the apartment wouldn't be mine anyway.

No sooner had I completed the process, the apartment phone's shrill tone went off. Murphy's law, I thought. Lucky I was still here to hear it. I jumped, and I felt an odd swooping sensation in my stomach. It wasn't unfamiliar—it's the feeling I used to get every time I was expecting a call from Mr. Persistence.

I squashed the feeling of hope bubbling in my stomach. He hadn't called over the last half dozen weeks, why would he call now?

"Hello?"

"Bella?"

Despite my attempts to prevent it, I'd still let myself hope. My heart sank as I heard Alice on the other line. "Yeah?"

"Did you find some shoes? Should I come over to help you choose?"

"Alice calm down, you sound more nervous than me," I laughed. "Yes, I found some shoes."

"Good. Now remember you're to meet him at the restaurant in half an hour. I'll text you sometime in the first hour if you need an escape."

"I know," I sighed, dreading the date already. "Hold on, there's someone on the other line."

I put her on hold. "Hello?"

"Hello, is Miss Bella Swan there, please?"

My heart skipped a beat. I'd recognise that voice anywhere.

My voice squeaked embarrassingly. I clapped a palm over my mouth and switched back to Alice.

"I have to leave now. Bye," I said, struggling to regulate my voice. I ended the call with Alice, switching back to him.

"...Hi," I said breathlessly, unsure of what to say. Should I be mad? Probably. But I was just too relieved to hear his voice.

"It's... really good to hear your voice again," he said, echoing my thoughts. His reply, though hesitant, burned with sincerity.

"I could say the same to you."

An awkward silence grew between us. It was awkward for me, at least. Last time we spoke had been so uncomplicated. I didn't know if we were still being as candid now.

I searched my mind for something to say, but everything I thought of sounded accusatory, whiny or insane. There was so much to get out that I honestly didn't know where to start.

He was the first to say something, for which I was grateful, and he blurted it out hurriedly, stumbling over his words. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I really wanted to, I swear, but I just became overwhelmed and then that crazy chick got all mother lion on me and I seriously feared for my life if I tried to call again."

"What?" It was the only reply I could think of to his confusing outburst.

I heard him sigh deeply. "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella," he murmured, his voice smouldering.

My stomach did that melting thing that only happened when he spoke like that. My heartbeat sped loudly; I hoped he couldn't hear it.

"Oh..." I muttered, confused. He didn't wait for a proper reply.

"How are you?" From the way he said it, it was beyond a courtesy question. He really wanted to know how I was.

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

He scoffed. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Do you promise?" I asked shyly. I desperately wanted to see him again.

He laughed softly. "What's in it for me?"

I grinned. "Some shades and the key to a seedy hotel room."

His laugh was louder this time. "Sounds kinky. You may have just won me over."

"Just wait till you see my costumes," I quipped.

I was relieved that it was so easy to talk to him. I decided that, just for tonight, I'd try and ignore the giant elephant in the room, and just banter like we always did. Of course, it couldn't be so easy.

"Bella..." Edward said, and his voice sounded different suddenly. "I think it's better if we're not friends."

His words were like a punch to the gut. All my previous suspicions came roaring back and I stared down at the phone in shock.

I recovered quickly, my heart doing what it could to protect itself and transforming my hurt into anger. "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" the word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting stupid James have me."

There was silence, and my stomach twisted uncomfortably, my breathing uneven. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," I snapped.

"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.

I clenched my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him, and took a deep breath. "I knew it was too good to be true," I said, my voice sounding constricted with anger.

"Bella, wait, let me explain—" he started. Ha! Explain what? Why we couldn't be friends? I'd rather skip that conversation, thanks.

"No! Just leave me alone, Edward," I snapped, before slamming the phone back into the cradle. I might have been a bit too forceful; the handset sprang apart from the blow.

I sank to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest as tears of anger sprang to my eyes. I tried as hard as I could to think about anything but Edward Cullen.

**EPOV**

As soon as they treated my wounds, and gave me a plain shirt to wear, I asked to see Bella. They complied, but told me she was still unconscious. I didn't care, I just needed to see that she was OK.

I left the room as soon as they gave me her room number; I wanted to be there when she woke up.

I managed to find my way without directions (though not without difficulty), just as Carlisle was stepping out of the room.

"Carlisle," I said, relieved to see him taking care of her.

"Edward?" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I ignored that question for the moment; I had more pressing concerns. "How is she?"

He looked back into the room, though I couldn't see past him to look for myself. He turned back to me, surprised. "You know her?"

I resisted the urge to laugh darkly. Did I know her? I knew different versions of her, but did that constitute knowing Bella as a whole?

"I suppose you could say that. How bad are the injuries?"

He sighed sadly as he stepped out of the room and snapped the door shut quietly, and my heart squeezed painfully at the thought of her in pain. "She'll be alright," he assured me quickly, seeing the look on my face. "But her ankle is broken, she's concussed, and she needed a few stitches to the gash on her head."

I expected as much, though it was still distressing to have it confirmed. "She won't be stuck here long, will she?"

"Not at all. She'll be out within the next few days." He hesitated. "Son... how do you know her?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, remembering her whimpering pleas in the dark. "I helped her in the alley."

Realisation dawned on his face. "_You're_ the one who saved her?"

So apparently the cops had filled him in on the story. "Anyone would have done the same," I muttered, trying to ignore the proud look on his face. I didn't deserve his praise; I could have taken James out sooner. If I'd acted properly she wouldn't be in hospital at all.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder, firm yet comforting. "I have other patients. She should wake up in the next few hours, if you want to stay."

I thanked him, then turned back in the direction of her room as he walked away. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself, before opening the door.

My eyes fell upon Bella's still form, battered and bruised, and my stomach tightened. She was hooked up to an IV, the liquid dripping rhythmically in the silence, and a thick cast stuck out of the lumpy sheets. I stepped forward to get a closer view of the damage. There were dark contusions scattered amongst most of her translucent skin, and the rest was covered in bandages.

I spotted a chair by her bed and quickly took up residence there, trying to focus not on my hatred for James that had boiled up in my stomach, but instead on the unconscious woman beside me. The chair was hard, uncomfortable, and the vinyl crackled loudly, but it was right beside Isabella, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. Her hand was lying beside her body against the bed, and mine was itching to touch it, to hold it, caress it...

But her hand was just as beat as the rest of her, thus making me hesitant. Instead I situated my arm to rest lightly next to hers along the bed; barely touching, but still just enough contact.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at her peaceful face, but I was mesmerised. Under the small amount of swelling on her face I could easily see the beauty of the girl I spotted in the shoe department. The girl who'd consumed my mind and fantasies ever since. The girl that I had unknowingly chatted to, argued with and flirted with over the phone on countless occasions.

Just gazing at her face it became obvious to me. She was more than just a phone buddy. More than just a woman that I loved to call to annoy. A woman I loved to talk to and hear her voice...she was a woman I loved. I couldn't stop the words from forcing their way into my head. I loved Bella Swan.

I couldn't quite comprehend it, but there was a connection between us. The phone, the department store, the... alley. I'd never considered myself a man who took much stock in 'destiny' and 'fate', but how could this be coincidence? I could only come to one conclusion, and only after the evidence had been shoved in my face, I acknowledged it: Bella and I were meant for each other.

I knew I was being trite and clichéd, but I didn't care; it was worth it.

I let my mind wander again, exploring my realisation. I was startled when a voice at the door broke through my reverie.

"Mr Cullen?" my head snapped up, and one of the policemen from the alley was standing in the doorway.

"Yes?" I asked, more than a little annoyed at the interruption. I didn't make any move to leave. I didn't want to. I never wanted to leave Bella's side again.

"I'm Officer Crowley. What's up?"

Was he serious? What did he expect me to say? _Oh hey, man. How am I, you say? Well, see, this girl here that I'm in love with was almost raped today and I got beat up by her psychopathic stalker while trying to save her. All in all I've had a wonderful day. How are you?'_

Instead I just stared at him, not bothering to correct my open mouth. His gaze had moved to Bella now. I narrowed my eyes as his expression turned admiring.

"She's pretty," he said, almost in surprise. "Even all messed up. Not my usual type... still, maybe I should take her out, make her forget about today."

I wanted to fucking harpoon him in the face.

The growl that left my throat at his words was barely audible, and I had to control myself before I growled something immature like 'mine!'

The truth was that she wasn't mine, and it was almost unbearably painful to admit that.

Officer Crowley turned to me now, oblivious to the mental pain I was inflicting on him. "Hey, so we need to ask you some questions." He got down to business when he saw the look on my face. "Could you come down the station with us to make a statement?"

Shit. No.

I hesitated, glancing back at Bella's broken form.

"It won't take long Mr. Cullen. She'll still be here...it's not like she's going anywhere like that." He snickered at his own pitiful joke. I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

I sighed, and lifted myself from the chair, missing the contact between Isabella and me already. I noticed a pad of paper on the bedside table, and I quickly grabbed it, ripping a page off the top to scribble down a message. I didn't want her to wake up alone, but she needed to see I was thinking about her if she did.

Another thought crept into my mind. What if she didn't want me there when she woke? What if all I carried were bad memories for her now? I decided to let her make the decision of staying in contact with me or not.

It took longer than I expected to find the right words, but after wasting most of the notebook paper, I finally settled on the best thing to say (much to Officer Crowley's annoyance, who spent the time huffing and checking his watch impatiently).

_Bella,_

_I hope you're feeling better. I wanted to be there when you woke up, but the police insisted I go down to the station to make a statement. They'll want to question you when you wake up as well, so be warned. One of the policemen is absolutely insufferable. The doctors told me you should be out within the next few days. I won't intrude on you in hospital, but I'll make sure to call every night._

There were only two sheets of paper left by the time I had it perfect, and I hesitated before finally signing it '_love Edward_'. Folding it neatly I placed it under a small phone cradle on the table, and stuffed the scraps of paper into my pocket.

And even though Crowley physically led me away, my thoughts never left my Bella.

*

I didn't call that night, as she would obviously still be in hospital. The next night, however, I was hopeful that maybe she'd been released early, and dialled her number eagerly.

My heart skipped a beat when it was answered. "Hello?"

My elation didn't last long. This woman sounded scarily similar to Emmett's girlfriend, and truth be told, that woman scared the crap out of me sometimes. But if she was taking care of Bella (as I assumed she was), who was I to judge? Still, I had to remind myself that she wasn't Emmett's girlfriend before I spoke.

"Hello, is Miss Isabella Swan there, please?" I asked in my most persuasive tone.

There was a slight pause, before... "Oh, you have some nerve!"

I jumped at her outburst. "Excuse me?"

"Listen, she's done answering your questions! Do you realise how much you creeped her out?"

"I—I didn't... I just..." I stuttered.

"She doesn't want to talk to you. She says she'd be glad to never hear your voice again."

Rejection shot through me, so acute that it was almost physically painful. But... if that's what Bella wanted...

"I understand. Sorry for wasting your time," I said, my voice defeated. She hung up before I even finished speaking.

*

Weeks passed, and true to Bella's requests, I didn't call again.

That wasn't to say it was easy though. Every night I came so close to calling; some nights I'd even started dialling before I hung up.

I wouldn't be a burden on her life. If she didn't want to be involved with me I wouldn't force myself on her, no matter how much I loved her.

I became depressed. I'd lost my job (they'd fired me for missing the shift that I was supposed to be at while saving Bella), though that didn't faze me too much. Money had never been an issue. No, the thing that bothered me most was that my last remaining connection with her, the way we met, was now gone.

I wondered how she was healing, how her job interview had gone, how she was in general. I wondered if she still thought of me, even a fraction as much as I thought of her. For the umpteenth time today, my hand itched towards her cell. My control was slipping. Just a few buttons pushed, and I could be talking to her right now...

I was flopped on the couch, seeing but not really watching the infomercials in front of me. At that moment Jasper came through the door, whispering on his cell. I didn't even try and decipher what he was saying.

He hung up, then grabbed the remote and switched off the TV.

"Hey, I was watching that," I protested half-heartedly, not even shifting so I could see him.

"No you weren't."

"I could have been."

"But you wouldn't have."

I sat up and turned to Jasper. "What are you trying to say?"

"All you've been doing these last few weeks is mope! You're a vegetable. You never even go to the gym anymore."

That wasn't true. I'd just taken to going at odd hours of the morning when my newly-acquired insomnia got the best of me. "I still fail to see your point."

"You need to get out, man. When was the last time you even left the apartment?"

I didn't answer that question. "And I suppose you have some miracle fix for me?"

"Probably the opposite, but Alice insisted I try this."

I was instantly wary. "Try what?"

"She's set you up on a blind date. Please don't hurt me."

I blinked up at him, then let myself flop back on the sofa. "I'm not going."

"Come on, Edward, what harm can it do?" Jasper cajoled.

To him it would seem like no harm. But I still felt like I'd be betraying Isabella. "In case you haven't noticed, I've taken a break from dating."

Jasper struggled with an argument for a bit. "OK, that's fine. Why don't you take a leaf out of Emmett's book before he met Rosalie? She can just be a little fun."

"I don't _use_ women," I spat.

Jasper became desperate. "Please? Alice threatened not to sleep with me for a week if I don't convince you."

"I haven't slept with anyone in a week, I'm sure you'll deal."

"Come on, live a little." It was amusing, watching Jasper change tactics. "You might actually like her."

I felt like telling Jasper that there was certainly no way I'd like her, unless her name was Isabella Swan, but instead I just shrugged.

"Look, if this is about _her_—"

"Don't finish that sentence, Jazz," I said quietly, my voice full of warning. The guys and I had an unspoken rule that Isabella's name, and any reference to her existence not be spoken. It was too painful.

"Fuck it, I am. If this is about _her_, then it's your own goddamn fault. If you stopped acting like a pussy and just fucking called her then maybe you could get some closure and move on. Maybe she's realised what a mistake she's made by pushing you away, or maybe not. But Emmett and I are sick of watching you waste away in front of this TV day after fucking day. You're going on this fucking date, even if we have to physically force you."

I was too shocked by his outburst to be mad (yet, anyway). "When is it?"

"This Thursday," he replied, sounding relived that I'd agreed, before adding, "I'm sure she'll be nice."

"Whatever," I replied, still half-considering not going. "If she isn't though, I'm blaming you."

Jasper laughed. "Fair enough." He tossed the remote back into my lap and disappeared into the kitchen.

*

Thursday already. Why had I agreed to this again?

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, wishing more than ever that I could be seeing Bella tonight. As I gave my teeth a last minute scrub I realised it wasn't just a wish; the urge to talk to her was overpowering.

_If you stopped acting like a pussy and just fucking called her then maybe you could get some closure and move on. Maybe she's realised what a mistake she's made by pushing you away, or maybe not._

Jasper's words echoed in my head again. My resistance had been weakening for a while now, and combined with Jasper's encouragement and the fact that I was facing dinner with a woman who wasn't Bella, it crumbled altogether.

As I dialled the phone a weird rush swept through me. I needed to hear her voice one more time, even if it was just to tell me to go play in traffic. I wanted to beg her to give me a chance.

The phone answered. My heart leapt up into my throat. "Hello?"

My body relaxed completely, reacting to her sweet voice. "Hello, is Miss Bella Swan there, please?" Saying those words was like second nature to me.

Her voice squeaked. What the hell did _that_ mean? There was silence, and I was worried she was going to hang up on me.

But then she spoke, just one word in a swift breath. "Hi."

Warmth washed over me; I couldn't even help it. She was like my drug, and the withdrawal was over now. "It's... really good to hear your voice again," I said, hesitantly though fervently. Would she start yelling? Tell me never to call again?

"I could say the same to you," she said evenly, but her breathing was still slightly erratic. My heart soared. That was a good sign, wasn't it?

We were both silent as I struggled to articulate my thoughts. She needed to know why I did what I did. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I really wanted to, I swear, but I just became overwhelmed and then that crazy chick got all mother lion on me and I seriously feared for my life if I tried to call again." My words were rushed, but I think she got most of it.

"What?" she said, bewildered. Apparently not.

I sighed, wondering how to put this without freaking her out. "I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

"Oh..."

"How are you?" I asked. Had she improved? Had she been seeking professional help? Did she get the job?

"I'm fine," she replied immediately, automatically.

"I'll believe that when I see it," I teased.

"Do you promise?" she said quietly, her voice coy.

I laughed quietly. Did she even know how impossibly sexy she was? "What's in it for me?"

"Some shades and the key to a seedy hotel room."

As usual, her response was completely unexpected. I laughed again. "Sounds kinky. You may have just won me over."

As if she didn't already own my heart.

"Just wait till you see my costumes," she said cheekily. Good lord.

I took a deep breath, making up my mind. I knew that if I didn't ask now I may never work up the courage to ask later. I tried to keep up the flirty pretence through my nervousness.

"Bella, I think it's better if we're not friends." It would benefit both of us so much more if we were a couple.

I expected her to act a little disappointed, shocked maybe, so that I could spring the 'just kidding!' line and ask her if she wanted to come back to my place to bone.

"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," she shot back. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" I asked, side-tracked now. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting stupid James have me."

I gaped at the phone. Did she honestly believe that? "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I _know_ you do," she retorted.

Her estimation of my intentions left me seething. "You don't know anything."

I heard her jaw click together audibly. When she spoke, her voice was tense. "I knew it was too good to be true."

I remembered my initial intention, to ask her out. How had it gone so horribly wrong? "Bella, wait, let me explain—" I said, but she cut me off.

"No! Just leave me alone, Edward." The line disconnected.

I tried calling her again and again, but she clearly wasn't going to answer.

Finally I gave up, and slid to the ground. I'd screwed things up, that much was obvious. Was there any way for me to make it better?

*****

Yeah, I know. I suck. Don't worry, it only gets better from here. Not much left, though. We have one more chapter to go, and then the epilogue. If you're all really nice and review this chapter, I'll try and swallow my embarrassment and include a lemon in the next one.


End file.
